The Blender
by LordsFire
Summary: This is my repository for miscellaneous story fragments that I thought were interesting, but not interesting enough, or perhaps worth enough effort, to turn into full stories in and of themselves.
1. HPDK: INCENDIARY HEMATOLOGY!

AN: You _know_ you want it.

((()))

September 13th, 1984

Privet Drive was in a neighbourhood that could be described as peaceful.

Scenic.

Idyllic.

Picturesque, evenly.

Its inhabitants were all quite normal, with neat and tidy gardens like any good Englishman should have, with neat and orderly houses, all nicely arranged for a reasonable balance between aesthetics and functionality.

So it was, on the whole, rather uncharacteristic to find a pair of cars screaming through the intersection with Magnolia Crescent onto Privet Drive at speeds well in excess of the 45 KPH speed limit, their passengers exchanging fire with fully automatic weapons.

The screamed obscenities were rather out of character for the inhabitants of Privet Drive as well.

"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!" One of the men in the leading car, a rather pock-marked BMW, screamed, emptying a full clip from his MP5 at the pursuing car.

"AHAHAHAH," Shouted the passenger of the second car, a custom model with what appeared to be a _face_ taking up the space customarily occupied by the front grill of a vehicle, "THAT'S WHAT THEY ALL SAY UNTIL I PUNCH THEM IN THE _FACE!_"

If the passenger of the first car had been any less insane, he probably would have found his pursuer's complete lack of concern about the bullets whipping past his body unnerving.

Even when one of the round nearly took the corner off his pointy orange sunglasses.

"LET'S DO THIS, PARTNER!" He shouted, and the his partner nodded, then grinned like a man whose acquaintance with sanity was comparable to a friend you haven't seen since second grade, before downshifting and flooring the gas pedal.

In the meantime the gunman in the lead car emptied another clip at the face-car, but it was only marginally more effective than spit-balls at actually impeding the car's progress. To his surprise, rather than return fire, the gunman in the second car appeared to be holstering his gun, and _climbing out the window_.

He turned to shout a warning at his own driver, but it was too late.

The face-car's engine _screamed_, _screamed_ like a raging Scots berserker chasing after a pant-suited English businessman with a dirty great claymore and nothing on but woad and a torc forged from the _bones of his slain enemies_.

What occurred when the face-car caught up with the BMW was of remarkable similarity to what happened when the Scot caught up with the man in the pants-suit, with the gunman taking the role of the businessman's head, and the man in the orange shades taking the role of the Claymore, by removing him from the BMW half a second after the face met the rear bumper of the BMW.

The method of removal was mid-air flying tackle, leap beginning at the moment of impact, continuing to body-slamming the gunman, taking a slight detour through the living-room window of Number 4 Privet Drive, and terminating on the back of the big-screen television in a hail of glass shards.

Meanwhile, the face-car, having introduced its front to the back of the BMW, sternly escorted the BMW through Number 4's front door, down the entry hall (tearing out the sheet-rock on both sides along the way), before grinding it rather permanently into the stairs, crushing half the stairs, and an equal portion of the BMW's engine compartment in the process.

For several long moments, there was silence, save for the sound of gas falling, sheet-rock rubble settling, and splintered wood raining lightly about the interior of Number 4. The near-silence was ended by the melodious sound of fist meeting face, then hand-cuffs being snapped into place.

"Hah!" Flying-window-tackle-man said after a moment of thought, "Your days of slaving are over! If you like German cars, you should have gone with the _Flying Dutchman_."

The Dursley family, who had been sitting on the couch watching the TV that Flying-window-tackle-man was now seated in the remains of, groaned at the bad joke.

"Hey Partner!" Crazy-car-driving-man shouted from where he was sitting on the ruined hood of the BMW, the cuffed hands of the other driver in one hand, his other pushing aside some of the remaining planks of the stairs to look in the cupboard underneath it, "What do people usually keep under the stairs?"

"I dunno," Flying-window-tackle-man said, shrugging as he hauled his rather mangled perp out of the ruins of the TV, "Cleaning stuff? Shoes?"

"This totally is not shoes," Crazy-car-driving-man said, "Looks like a little kid with a bloody forehead."

"Wait?" Flying-window-tackle-man said, dragging his perp over with no apparent effort, "Lemme see."

He looked into the shattered remnant of the stairs to find a frightened four-year-old child with black hair and a bloody cut on his forehead staring up out of the stairs at him with frightened eyes. Flying-window-tackle-man also noticed that he appeared to be wearing rags, and sitting in a small, beaten up crib.

"Hey Partner," Flying-window-tackle-man said.

"Yeah?" Crazy-car-driving-man said.

"You got your backup cuffs?" Flying-window-tackle-man asked.

"Yeah," Crazy-car-driving-man said, "Why?"

"Because," Flying-window-tackle-man said, turning to stare at the still-too-shocked-to-move Dursleys with a ferocious grin, "Looks like we're making a couple more arrests."

((()))

_The Times_, front page, September 14th, 1984.

Child slavery ring busted in London suburbs!

Two days ago, in the early afternoon, an international task force took down a child-slavery ring that had been operating in the London Metro area after an eight-month investigation. During the take-down, the leader of the ring, Ragnus Von Spartakus Von Gremlinson, managed to fight his way past members of the task force and London police, but was pursued by Detective Lieutenants Kamina and Kittan.

After a running gun-battle that lasted more than a day and a half (during which in excess of ten thousand rounds of ammunition were fired), passing through every major thoroughfare in London, and many in London's suburbs, Lieutenants Kamina and Kittan finally forced the fleeing Ragnus Von Spartakus Von Gremlinson to ground in Little Whinging, Surrey.

"Yeah, the wuss totally fled right to one of his sleazy customers," Detective Kamina said when interviewed, "Some slug called Dursley, maybe he thought the wuss had connections that could help him. Didn't help him though, we just rolled Dursley and his chick up along with Gremlinbutt and his driver."

"Partner and I totally took those assholes down _hard_," Detective Kittan said, "I smashed their weak-ass BMW right through the front door, while Partner tackled Von _Lame_son out of their car through lard-butt's window. Landed right on their TV, it was awesome."

While _The Times_ has yet to receive independent verification of the reported aerial maneuver, we were successfully able to interview a few of their compatriots on the task force, under condition of anonymity.

"Those -censored- are -censored- CRAZY!" Reported a male co-worker, "The Dursleys are lucky they _survived_ the Double K's visit to their house! How they haven't gotten someone _killed_ I have no -censored- clue!"

"I can _totally_ believe they did that," A female co-worker said, "Kamina and Kittan are like the manliest men ever. My only regret is that with the task force's purpose fulfilled, they'll be going back to Teppellin Beach, and I don't have the travel budget to date a boyfriend in America."

Detective-Lieutenant's Kamina and Kittan, as mentioned, hail from Teppellin Beach, but have spent much of the last three years on deployments abroad, where they have racked up a phenomenal record for making difficult arrests.

"I'm simply happy to allow detective's Kamina and Kittan's _special talents _to be appreciated in other, _far_ distant parts of the world," Police Chief Genome of Teppelin Beach said when interviewed over the phone about their many deployments overseas, "I believe their record speaks for itself, and I am happy to grant as many requests for their _distinct_ service as I receive from Scotland Yard, or Interpol, or the Gendarmerie Nationale, or the Bundesgrenschutz, or the NKVD, or the Ministry of Public Security, or..." (quote abbreviated due to extreme length.)

Also discovered by Detective-Lieutenant's Kamina and Kittan during their take-down of Ragnus von Spartakus von Gremlinson, was that the Dursley family had been keeping a child slave in their house to perform household chores. The child had been informed that he was their nephew, however, as he bears no resemblance to any member of the Dursley family, has no known birth certificate, medical or dental records, and is never recorded to attend school, this is believed to have been a lie the Dursleys told the child. The boy could not give his name when asked, and, on top of physical scars, bore signs of abuse, malnutrition, scurvy, stunted growth, vitamin deficiency, possible...

((()))

Genome, Chief of Police for Teppelin City, dropped the paper onto his desk, and gazed coolly at the pair of detectives seated in his office. Off in the corner of his office, his daughter Nia veritably _glowed_ as she cradled the sleeping black-haired, green-eyed child in her lap, gently stroking his hair as she did so.

"So please, detectives," Genome said with a painfully cordial tone of voice, "What, precisely made you think it would be a good idea to bring a child with no identification, no passport, and in need of medical treatment, across the Atlantic ocean with no warning?"

"Well, see boss," Kittan said, grinning brilliantly, "We after bro and I finished beating Dursley down-"

"Fat tub took a lot of beating," Kamina put in.

"Yeah," Kittan said, "Got to use my brass knuckles on him. _Good times._ Anyways, so the kid was watching all of this through the smashed staircase, and once we've finally got the blubber-butt on the floor and cuffed, we let the kid out, and he latches onto Partner's leg, and won't let go."

"Not like, we had to pry him off," Kamina said, "Like, we _couldn't_ pry him off. Three officers pulling on one end and Partner and I on the other, couldn't pry him loose, just managed to almost dislocate my hip."

Genome turned to look at the child in his daughter's lap briefly, then return Nia's glowing smile, before looking back to the Double K skeptically.

"Yeah," Kittan continued, "Like, even when he was _asleep_ we couldn't get him off. It was like he was glued to Partner's leg or something."

"I've been wearing these pants for _three days straight_ now," Kamina said, "Kid _would not let go_. So anyways, just when the task-force boss over in London was getting ready to throw us on a plane-"

"Boy, was _he_ eager to see us gone," Kittan said, elbowing Kamina in the ribs and laughing.

"Yeah," Kamina said, smirking, "_Good Times. _Anyways, I was trying to think about how to get the little limpet off, when I realized hey, I know someone who's _great_ with kids. Totally can make them melt in her hands."

"Nia," Kittan said, turning to give the girl a thumbs-up and a huge grin, "Totally the best chick with kids I've ever seen."

"Yep," Kamina said, "And hey look, we're not in the door for ten minutes, and she's got him off and sleeping in her arms. I was totally right!"

Genome simply stared at the pair of detectives, waiting for something more.

"Daddy?" Nia said, "I think the young man needs a proper bed to sleep in, do you think it would be alright if I take him home?"

"Of course sweetheart," Genome said, "But we still have important questions for the boy, and he's an important witness on the case Detectives Kamina and Kittan were involved in over in London, so I'll have to send an escort to make sure nothing untoward happens to him."

"Of course daddy," Nia said, smiling brilliantly at her father, "I'll just go wait down in the break-room for you to send someone along."

"Okay, muffin," Genome said, smiling back at his daughter, "I'll send someone right down."

Genome continued to smile as his daughter waved goodby, and walked out of the office, taking care not to jostle the child she held. Kittan and Kamina grinned at each other, and while their boss was still distracted, slipped small earplugs into their ears, and got ready for their _real_ debriefing.

((()))

October 28th, 1984, undisclosed courthouse in London.

"So, ah, _Iron Hands_," The prosecuting attorney said, feeling slightly awkward about the child-witness's new name, "Can you identify the man who claimed to be your uncle?"

'Iron Hands,' attending the courtroom via an expensive video relay from Teppelin city, where he was seated in a smiling Nia's lap, immediately pointed at Vernon Dursley.

"The large man turning purple in the defendant's seat," He said, and Nia patted his head for being polite and not directly saying that Vernon was hideously fat.

Vernon Dursley, who had been gagged due to prior outbursts directed at the green-eyed child who was 'attending' the trial during this session.

"Can you tell me his name?" The prosecutor asked.

"Vernon Dursley," Iron Hands said, then looked around curiously, "Where's Aunt Petunia and Dudley?"

"Petunia Dursley's trial will be taking place at a later date," The Prosecutor said, "Now, could you give me a description of what your average day was like at the Dursleys?"

"Well," Iron Hands said, "I'd wake up, and cook breakfast, bacon, pancakes, waffles, toast, sausages, hash browns, and tea. Then, if I didn't burn anything, I'd get a piece of toast before it was time for gardening, where I could usually sneak a few drinks of water from the hose, then it was time for dusting, the living room, dining room, kitchen, downstairs hallway, stairs, upstairs hallway, Dudley's first bedroom, Dudley's second bedroom, Aunt and Uncle's room, the guest room, then vacuum everything except for the bathrooms and kitchen, then mop the bathrooms and kitchen, then it was time to cook lunch, and if I didn't burn any of that I'd get an apple or an orange. Then it was time for either painting the fence, or the house, or the garage, or the shed, or if I'd painted those recently enough, washing the walls inside, and then it was time for a shower and I'd get to use the loo. After that, I'd cook dinner, and if I didn't burn anything I could eat some of the leftovers, unless Marge was visiting, then they'd go to Ripper, her dog. After that, it was either other chores, or they'd put me back in my cupboard for the night."

Vernon, thoroughly purple at this point, chewed on his gag and glared at Iron Hands. The Prosecutor smirked triumphantly. The Advocate desperately wished some _other_ poor schmuck had been forced to to take this defense. The Jury glared at Vernon. Nia held Iron Hands closer, and soothingly stroked his messy hair.

"Did he ever beat you?" The Prosecutor asked a bit more cautiously, rather aware that it was _Spiral Genome_'s daughter that was holding the boy, and it would _not_ do to upset the living legend's daughter.

"Um," Iron Hands said, "Did he ever _not_ beat me?"

The Juries glares _intensified_.

"One last question, Mister Iron Hands," The Prosecutor said, "In order to spare you unhappy memories. We have a detailed medical report on you; do you remember any injuries or scars that you did _not_ receive from your uncle?"

"Sure!" Iron Hands said brightly, "The ones I got from Aunt Petunia! She's pretty fast with a frying pan."

"No further questions," The Prosecutor said.

((()))

October 31st 1988, Teppelin Beach.

Eight year old Iron Hands McAwesome, named by his own request by the pair of detectives that had rescued him from child-slavery (they chose the names while drunk based on his grip when they met him and what sounded cool), stared intently up at his 'Uncles.'

"Partner and I are going on a long undercover mission overseas," Kamina said seriously, "So remember, Iron Hands, don't let _anybody_ put you down. Believe in _me_ that believes in _you!_

"Kick reason to the curb!" Kittan roared, "Go _beyond_ the impossible!"

"And remember, Iron," Kamina said, grinning wildly as he slipped on his pointy orange shades, "You're _invincible_, bro!"

Iron Hands nodded seriously, fully believing what his beloved 'Uncles' were telling him, that he _would_ go beyond the impossible, that he _could_ kick reason to the curb, and that he _was_ _Absolutely Invincible._

Deep within the last scion of the Potter family, his magic responded to his total belief in what his Uncles had told him.

((()))

July 31st, 1991, Teppelin Beach.

"Hey, mama!" Iron Hands said, waving an odd letter in the air as he ran to join her in the family's living room, "Guess what, I'm a Wizard!"

"Oh!" Nia said brightly, taking the letter and examining it, "Just wait until Simon and your Uncles hear about this, they'll be so proud!"

((()))

September 1st, 1991, Platform 9 ¾, Kings Cross Station, London.

Platform nine and three-quarters was an isolated hold-out of the Wizarding world, cleverly hidden behind an enchanted barrier to isolate it from the muggles, and their strange new, and ever-changing, ways. Its isolation especially helped the mental peace of those who preferred to ignore the muggle world.

When the Gurrenrod, a sleek custom-built roadster with a face on the front and more horse-power than half of Kentucky screamed through the barrier and streaked across the platform before spinning to a stop at the far end, a few wizards and witches nearly suffered from heart attacks.

"Whoo!" Kamina said as he leapt out, "Classy place, got that old-timey antique feel to it."

"Oh," Nia said as she climbed out of the Gurrenrod's back seat, "It's classic late-nineteenth century industrial architecture! It's too bad this place isn't open to the public."

"What's that mean, mama?" Iron Hands asked as he climbed out beside her.

"It's quite old," Nia said, smiling and ruffling Iron Hands messy hair, "And very nice. I'm sure some of that will be explained in the history books I got for you."

"Yeah, sure," Kamina said nonchalantly, "Now let's get the squirt onto the train 'fore all the good seats are taken."

Some luggage moving, a little of wizard-freaking-out, and many heart-felt hugs and tears from Nia (and a few man-hugs and manly tears from Kamina) later, Iron Hands was aboard the train, and saying his final goodbyes through the open window.

"Remember to write home, and study hard!" Nia said, "We'll miss you!"

"Yeah, shrimp," Kamina said, "But remember, you're _invincible_, go bust some heads!"

"I will!" Iron Hands said, "I'll make you all proud!"

Nia and Kamina nodded, Nia smiling wetly up at him, Kamina giving him the big thumbs up and the grin that terrified criminals in prisons all across the world. Iron Hands smiled and gave them the big thumbs up in return, then the train began to huff and puff and pull itself out of the station.

Heart set on making his time at Hogwarts as _awesome_ as he _possibly_ could, Iron Hands sat down and began trying to decide just how to do so. He completely missed the Gurrenrod jumping off the platform, down onto the rails, in order to follow the train out of London a couple minutes later; he was, in fact, distracted by the arrival of a scrawny red-head who looked decidedly nervous.

"Er," The redhead said, "Everywhere else is full, do you mind if I sit with you?"

"No problem bro," Iron Hands said, causing the red-head to blink in surprise at his American accent, "What's your name? I'm Iron Hands McAwesome Genome, from Teppelin Beach."

"Uh," the boy said, dragging his trunk into the compartment Iron Hands was seated in, "Ron Weasley, from Ottery Saint-Catchpole. You're American?"

"Nah," Iron Hands said, hopping to his feet to help Ron stow his trunk, "I'm originally a Brit, but my uncles brought me over to America, where I got adopted by mama Nia and pops Simon after they rescued me from a child-slavery ring."

"A _child-slavery ring?"_ Ron said, staring in disbelief, and nearly dropping his half of the trunk.

"Yeah," Iron Hands said, easily lifting the trunk himself with inhuman strength, "It was in the news and everything, Kamina and Kittan ended up chasing some schlup called von Gremlinson all the way across London, before he tried to hide out with some scumbag called Dursley, where my uncles totally kicked their asses and dragged them off to prison. I only remember a little bit, but what I do remember was _awesome_."

"You," Ron said seriously, "Have got to tell me _all_ about it."

((()))

After half an hour of swapping stories, Iron Hands about his uncles' and father's exploits with TBPD, Ron about his older brother's antics and shenanigans at Hogwarts and in the wider world, they were interrupted by a serious girl with bushy brown hair entering the apartment with a shy, somewhat chubby, boy in tow.

"Have either of you seen a toad?" She asked, "Neville's lost his, and-"

"A toad?" Iron Hands asked, staring at the shy boy, "Why would you have a toad? I thought toads were a witches thing, like cats?"

"Not really," The girl said, "According to what I've read about Wizarding culture, no particular familiar is associated with either gender. Are you American?"

"By adoption," Iron Hands said, shrugging, "I was born a Brit, but after I was rescued from a child-slavery ring, my uncles took me to America to be adopted. I'm Iron Hands McAwesome Genome, who're you?"

"Hermione Granger," The girl said, "It's-t_hat was you?_"

"Which that?" Iron Hands asked, raising an eyebrow at the girl with a smile.

"The child that was rescued from the Dursley family seven years ago?" Hermione said excitedly, "Part of that big slavery bust that was all over the news?"

"Yeah," Iron Hands said, smiling at the girl, "That was me. My uncles are _awesome._"

"But you're _famous,_" The girl gushed, "Is it true you got adopted by the daughter of the legendary Spiral Genome himself?"

"Yeah," Iron Hands said smugly, "My whole _family_ is made out of _Win_. We're just too awesome for words."

"Ohhh," Hermione said jumping up and down and practically squealing in excitement, "This is so _exciting_, I've never met anybody famous before. What was it like being rescued by the famous Double K?"

"_Awesome_," Iron Hands said, happy to strike up another conversation about his favorite subject, his family, "Let me tell you about the time-"

Toad quite forgotten, Neville and Hermione sat down beside Ron, spell-bound by Iron Hands' story-telling.

For the next few hours, every time that Iron Hands finished a story, Hermione would spew off a massive series of new questions, which inevitably lead to _another_ story, keeping the cycle going. They were briefly interrupted by a visit from a cart full of food, which sparked a discussion about Wizarding food and candy, which Ron and Neville took considerably larger part in since they were the only ones who knew anything about it. It was when Hermione was quizzing Neville on the finer points of etiquette in the Wizarding world that they were interrupted by the arrival of three newcomers.

"I hear Harry Potter is supposed to be on the train this year," A pale blonde said as he surveyed the compartment, clearly not impressed by what he saw, "Have any of you seen him?"

"Not yet," Hermione said, standing to greet the boy, "I'm Hermione Granger, and you are?"

"Malfoy," The boy said, sneering, "Draco Malfoy. I don't recall your family name, you're some kind of mudblood aren't you?"

"What?" Hermione said, some hurt showing in her tone and body language, as while she didn't understand what Draco meant, she could clearly tell she had been insulted.

Iron Hands eyes narrowed, and he _glared_ at the blond boy.

"Hey," He said, rising to stand menacingly over the slightly smaller boy, "It ain't _nice_ to hurt a lady's feelings."

"And who," Malfoy said, sneering, as he gestured for his pair of thugs to move up behind him, "Are _you?_"

"I'm Iron Hands McAwesome Genome," Iron Hands said proudly, and my family told me not to put up with pretentious little spit-heads hurting my friend's feelings."

"Idiot American," Malfoy sneered, "Crabbe, Goyle, teach him a lesson."

The pair of thugs moved up to grab Iron Hands, but he _laughed, _then proceeded to headbutt them both, sending them flying out of the compartment to crash into the far side of the corridor.

"_You're_ the idiot," Iron Hands said, grabbing Malfoy by the front of his robes, and pulling the now-even-paler blonde up to his face, only using one hand, and not even straining visibly.

He then brushed aside his bangs with his free hand, and pointed to a pair of crossed scars on his forehead that vaguely resembled a drill bit.

"Do you see this?" Iron Hands asked, and Draco nodded mutely.

"_This_," Iron Hands continued, his voice rising with _Burning Passion_, "Is the Drill that will _**PIERCE THE HEAVENS**_**."**

His words echoes up and down the train car they were in.

"And _you_," Iron Hands said, "Will now be _introduced_ to it."

Then he slammed his forehead into Draco's face, breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious, before chucking him onto his dazed minions, then slamming the door to their compartment shut.

"Well," Iron Hands said, wiping the blood off of his face, "_He_ doesn't get to ride with the cool people."

The others just _stared_ at him.

((()))

Later that evening, Great Hall, Hogwarts.

"Abbot, Hannah!" McGonagall declared.

"A hat!" Ron groaned, "The twins were going on about wrestling a _troll_, I'll _kill them!"_

"I know," Iron Hands said, patting Ron's shoulder reassuringly, "I'm disappointed too, but maybe we can find one to wrestle with later."

Ron _stared_ at Iron Hands, not sure if his new friend was crazy, or awesome. Neville was pretty sure Iron Hands was pretty awesome, as he seemed to be the embodiment of all courage, whereas Hermione was becoming increasingly certain that Iron Hands was insane, and was thinking about trying to get a competent psychiatrist to Hogwarts to evaluate him.

No more words passed between the four new friends, though Harry smiled encouragingly at Hermione and Neville as they went up to be sorted, then gave them the big thumbs up after they were sorted into Gryffindor. Then the name that everybody (except for Iron Hands) had been waiting for was called.

"Harry 'Iron Hands McAwesome Genome' Potter," McGonagall said, staring down at her list of names, _certain_ that it had not read like that when she read over it before the sorting began.

Iron Hands, absolutely confident in himself, strolled across the Great Hall just like Uncle Kamina had taught him to do when dealing with 'the public,' and plopped himself down on the stool, before smiling up at McGonagall and gesturing for her to place the hat on his head.

Slightly unnerved, but maintaining her composure, McGonagall did so.

_Well well, mister Potter,_ the Sorting Hat said, _It's nice to meet you; now where shall we put you?_

_I dunno_, Iron Hands thought at the hat, _Doesn't make much difference to me._

_Well,_ the hat said, _What do you dream about in life?_

_Being the Awesomest Detective_ EVER_, _Iron Hands thought at the hat, and remembering the manners that his mama had taught him, decided to ask the hat in return, _What's _your_ dream?_

_You know_, the hat said after a long pause, _nobody's ever asked me that before_.

_Well,_ Harry said, making himself comfortable, _Why don't you tell me all about it then_?

_Well_, The hat began, _ever since Godric first enchanted me, I've been rather fascinated by the stars..._

…

Half an hour later:

"By jove I _will!_" The hat shouted, startling the assorted students and staff watching, some of whom had fallen asleep while waiting for Iron Hands to be sorted, "I _will_ be the first hat in space. My blood _Burns_ for The Great Wild Yonder! I will go BEYOND THE IMPOSSIBLE! **TO INFINITY AND BEYOND!"**

And so saying, the Sorting Hat blasted off of Iron Hands' head, trailing fire as it smashed its way through the roof of the Great Hall, and rocketed off into the sky.

"DON'T FORGET TO WRITE!" Iron Hands said, the only apparent effect of the hat launching off his head being that his hair was now sharply swept back, waving up at the rapidly diminishing rocket trail of the Sorting Hat, "TELL ME WHAT MARS IS LIKE!"

That said, Iron Hands looked around the hall, seeing every single other individual in the room standing slack-jawed as they stared up at the hole in the Great Hall's ceiling, before spotting a new table which had magically appeared, with a banner that showed the Sorting Hat trailing flames as it soared through space. Deciding it must be for the house he had just been sorted into, he strolled over to it, then sat down, and turned his attention back towards McGonagall, to watch the rest of the sorting.

"Oh dear," McGonagall said, "How will we finish the sorting?"

((()))

AN: I intend to add bits and pieces to this as the fancy strikes me, mostly how Iron Hands McAwesome Genome handles various well-known scenes from canon differently. I will not promise any schedule, and it will _not_ flesh out into a full-on story though. This is crack with BURNING BLOOD, plain and simple.


	2. HP BH: and the Marriage Law

AN: This will be one of probably many shorts dealing with how Harry from 'Brutal Harry' would respond to a variety of common HP fanfiction tropes. This one can be assumed to take place during fifth year, but will _not_ be 'canon' Brutal Harry to the eventual sequel. This is really largely written as a way for me to blow off steam from personal issues, so I'm not putting exhaustive thought into it either. I also ended up running out of steam partway through and it ended shortly, but meh, this is crapspace fiction dump, so I'm posting it anyways.

Brutal Harry responds to Marriage Law implementation:

((()))

If Harry had been a more 'normal' young man, he would have asked if Hermione was joking. Instead, he just stared at her, and asked a single question.

"Do you think they mean to actually go through with this?"

"In part," Hermione said awkwardly, "It's because of what happened at the graveyard in Little Hangleton. A lot of pureblood families are in danger of going extinct after that, and Lucius Malfoy is trying to ensure that his power base doesn't get wiped out, especially since most of the new heads of house are students here at Hogwarts."

"And he wants them to produce heirs before I get it in my head to kill them," Harry said, saying what Hermione wasn't quite willing to say herself.

"Probably," Hermione said sadly, looking away from Harry, "I'm sorry, if I hadn't let myself-"

She was cut off by Harry laying his hand over her mouth, then pulling her over to him so that he could wrap his arms around her protectively. Hermione curled into his side, even though he was smaller than her, and wrapped her arms around him tightly as well. Of all the things that had changed since the graveyard, this was one of her favorite. Harry now not only initiated physical contact, rather than always waiting for her to do so, he did it _frequently_.

"It was not your fault," Harry said firmly, "Just ask my mum if you want a proper explanation why, but it was _not_ your fault."

Hermione shivered slightly, before nodding her head against Harry's chest, closing her eyes, and just luxuriating in _togetherness_. She did not begrudge Harry the past years of their friendship, but _greatly_ appreciated now having someone who took the time to comfort _her_.

Harry felt a little awkward holding his best friend for more than a few moments, but the strength of her grip on him clearly indicated she wished to stay right where she was, so he kept holding her anyways.

"What'll you do about this?" Hermione asked, her voice slightly muffled by her face still being pressed into Harry's chest.

"Stop it, of course," Harry said.

"How?" Hermione asked, pulling back to face him with slightly watery eyes.

"Sirius made me his heir before he abdicated his position as head of house Black," Harry said, smiling at Hermione, "Which means I have a seat on the Wizengamot. I think it's time I use it."

"Please don't hurt anybody _permanently_," Hermione said, smiling wryly at Harry, her smile brightening when he smiled and nodded in response.

((()))

The next evening, when the Wizengamot met, they assorted members were surprised to find Harry Potter present, having arrived before even those who customarily arrived quite early, seated in the rearmost of the meeting chamber's seats. While he drew some comment, no one approached him before the session began, though a few astute observers noticed that when Lucius Malfoy entered the chamber and spotted Potter, he immediately notified the attendant at the door that he would not be able to attend the session, and left.

The last man to enter was Albus Dumbledore, Head of the Wizengamot. When the ancient wizard spotted Harry, he sighed, but continued to the chamber's podium to call the meeting to session. When he called for the first order of business, Harry spoke before any other.

"I believe it is necessary to arrange for the repeal of a bill passed last week," Harry said.

"The Chair recognizes Lord Black," Dumbledore said, "Speak your piece."

Harry leapt lightly out of his seat, and strolled down to the floor of the chamber, before turning to face the assembled Wizards, and handful of Witches, of the Wizengamot.

"Last week," Harry said, "The Wizengamot passed a bill that made marriage compulsory amongst 'pure' and 'half' blood witches and wizards after they had completed their O.W.L.s. There was some shoddy justification, which I honestly don't care about."

He turned to face Dumbledore.

"I mean to have that bill repealed, by one means or another, by the time I leave this chamber. Do you intend to stop me?"

"That would depend," Dumbledore said cautiously, "By the means by which you intend to accomplish such, Lord Black."

"Very good," Harry said, turning to face the members of the Wizengamot again, "In order to expediate this, I would request that all who voted against this bill raise their hands?"

"It is entirely legal for votes to remain anonymous," Dumbledore said from behind him.

"Yes," Harry said, keeping his eyes trained on the assembled members of the Wizengamot, "But are those of you who opposed the bill ashamed to admit it?"

"Hardly," Augusta Longbottom said, and raised her hand.

Her doing so broke the ice, and very soon just over a third of the Wizengamot had raised their hands.

"Excellent," Harry said, smiling ferally at the assembly, then whipped out his wand and growled a single spell, "_Petrificus Totalus."_

Rather than affecting a single target, the spell struck the entire body of the Wizengamot, freezing every single member in place.

"Now," Harry continued, swiftly un-freezing those with their hands held up as he spoke, "We will be holding a new vote, one I believe which will have a startlingly high number of people abstaining."

Dumbledore sighed, but decided he would rather not provoke bloodshed, and did not interfere.

((()))

Harry sat down beside Hermione, and lay a hand on her shoulder. She started slightly, jolted out of her studious reverie, and set aside the book she'd been reading.

"Well," She said a bit nervously, "What happened?"

"The law was repealed," Harry said, "Oddly enough, every member who'd voted it in abstained."

He paused for a moment, then smiled at her wryly before continuing.

"No casualties."

"Good," She said, breathing a sigh of relief, "What _did_ you do?"

"Used _Petrificus Totalus_ on every Wizengamot member who'd voted to pass the stupid thing in the first place," Harry said.

"I suppose," Hermione said, sighing in exasperation, "I will have to settle for that."

(((()))

End.

((()))

AN: For those of you waiting for the sequel to Brutal Harry, you can expect work for it to begin once I've completed my most recent major story post, War in Tokyo. That is for work on it to begin, not posting to begin. Posting on it will begin either when it's mostly complete, or I've finished Cameron's Legacy, and thus cleared my plate to just bulldoze through it and write and update without needing a backlog to keep schedule. Because when I *do* start posting the sequel, I intend to post weekly until it's finished.


	3. HP BH: To Love speech

"When you can stand before a man in full rage, ranting, raving, yelling, screaming, and look beyond the anger and rage to see the pain that drives it, and chose to _Love_ him, and show him compassion in _that_ moment, then you can say you know what Love is."

"When you can look a woman in the eye, who has betrayed your trust and your heart time after time, who even in that moment you know you cannot trust, and see her pain in spite of your own, and try to comfort and protect her, then you can say you know what it means to Love someone."

"When you can look at a parent that has let you down, abused their authority over you, belittled and demeaned you, denied you compassion and comfort, hypocritically expected more of you than they expect of themselves, rebuked you for what they do, and choose to Love them, care about their wounds and hurts in spite of those they have dealt you, then you can say you have it in you to Love someone."

"When you find that one you have trusted to do something for you, a subordinate, a friend, a sibling, or even a child, who you put in a position of responsibility, and let you down, and respond with gentle but firm rebuke rather than harsh recrimination, and still show compassion and sympathy for their own hardships and wounds, then you have shown another Love."

"When someone whose wounded heart you have tried to heal rejects you, when one who you have tried to aid and support but has thrown you out, stands before you, and you still care for their well-being, dignity, and worth, despite how they have rejected your empathy and aid, and try one more time, or at the least not attack them and respect their desire to be left alone, then you can claim you have some idea what it means to treat someone with respect, consideration, and Love."

"'Loving' someone who treats you well, or you have positive feelings for, is easy. Having romantic 'love' for someone you find attractive, or you have a crush on, and has no negative history to work with or through, is easy. Being friends with someone who has common interests and temperament to you, and that you have no real points of conflict with, is not so hard."

"Love, _true_ Love, the Love that makes a life worth living, is sacrificial. The reason children becoming adults are so often alienated from their parents, is because they have grown enough in heart, and in mind, to clearly recognize that when this sacrificial Love is lacking, their parents do not genuinely _Love_ them. That in the end, their parents consider themselves before their children, and children always take their first lesson about their value from their parents, or those who took their place if the parents are missing."

"Those who are so brokenhearted, find themselves fighting with their parents, perhaps to try and push the parents, somehow or another, into treating them with real Love. Perhaps it is simply to punish the parents for treating them poorly. Perhaps it is an attempt to wrest control of their lives from their parents. Perhaps it is to try and get their parents to see that something is wrong. Whatever the cause, if the parents fail to recognize what is wrong, eventually almost every child will lose faith in their parents, and become jaded and embittered towards them."

"After this, the child looks for Love, for that most fundamental affirmation of their value and worth in other places. Almost all spend at least some attempt looking for Love or a simple declaration of worth amongst their peers and friends, other authority figures, as they continue to mature they will most often seek it within romance. Some search within religion, but the majority of the time, regardless of what the teachings of the religion itself say, unless a _person_ within that religion treats them in a genuinely Loving way, they will ultimately reject it."

"Some people get stuck in a rut, trying again and again to find the missing fulfillment from one romance after another, each of them failing in sequence; others get hung up being people-pleasers, trying to always be the socially desireable one, and find affirmation in the praise of peers. Some bounce from one religion to the next, or get caught up in one, and try to force themselves to fulfill its teachings to an absolute degree. Some few keep hunting for authority figures to take the place of their failed parents, and give them what they lack."

"In the end, most end up as either broken-hearted people constantly seeking what is lost, or embittered people who no longer believe in what their heart desperately craves, and become part of the problem, how they treat others in their bitterness propagating the cycle to others, and the next generation."

"Without Love, nothing will change."

((()))

AN: I wrote this after coming into conflict with some housemates; if you want, you can consider it to be something Lily Potter says after the end of Brutal Harry, something similar will be showing up in the sequel, even if it comes in a somewhat altered form.

To a Christian such as myself, the definition and embodiment of Love comes in the form of God, and Christ's sacrifice on the Cross. I won't put a full-out speech or anything here, but suffice to say, Christ set the example of being willing to die for others, even those opposed to him at the time. Real Love comes when you're not only willing to die for someone, but _live_ for them as well, treating them with kindness, respect, and compassion day by day, even when they make it hard for you.

The need for this kind of Love is an absolute fundament of the human psyche, and something I will be exploring in more detail in the sequel of Brutal Harry, which I mean to start on once I've cleared either War in Tokyo or Cameron's Legacy off my writing plate.


	4. HPDK: TWO FISTS!

Chapter TWO! For the TWO FISTS with which Iron Hands will DEFEAT INJUSTICE!

((()))

"Cor," Ron breathed as he sat down beside Harry for breakfast the morning after the aborted sorting, "Why didn't you say you were Harry Potter?"

"I'd forgotten," Iron Hands said, shrugging, "Is this Potter persona important?"

Ron _stared_ at Iron Hands.

"You don't know who _Harry Potter_ is?" He asked with considerable disbelief.

"Me, apparently," Iron Hands said, shrugging as he loaded more pancakes onto his plate, "But I don't get why being him is such a big deal."

Ron gibbered for a few moments; Iron Hands politely did not draw attention to this, instead continuing to focus on his food. Ron decided that before he carried this conversation any farther, he would have to make sure that this was, in fact, Harry Potter, and not simply someone who had received the wrong Owl about attending Hogwarts.

"Er," Ron said, "You wouldn't happen to have a scar on your forehead, would you?"

Iron Hands obligingly pulled back the fringe of his hair, revealing a scar. It was not, however the scar Ron had expected; instead of looking like a lightning bolt, it looked rather more like two conjoined at their tips, or perhaps when taken together, the bit of a drill.

"That's odd," Ron said, "I though Harry Potter's scar was supposed to look like a lightning bolt."

"This," Iron Hands said, staring Ron in the eyes with a very serious expression, tapping his scar with his right hand, while his left poured syrup on his pancakes, "Is the Drill, that will _Pierce The Heavens._"

Ron really didn't know what to say to that.

((()))

"Ah yes," Snape said, "Harry Potter, our new... _celebrity_."

He leveled his best 'fall into a hole and rot' glare at Iron Hands, who was paying him absolutely no attention, entirely focused upon his textbook.

"Potter!" Snape barked, rage rising within him as the boy _still _did not respond to him.

"Iron Hands!" Hermione burst out from beside him, immediately drawing his attention.

"Yes, Hermione?" Iron Hands said, looking up from his book.

Hermione pointed at Snape.

"Yes, Professor?" Iron Hands said respectfully, completely ignoring the Potions Master's enraged expression.

"That'll be five points from..." Snape trailed off as he realized that Iron Hand's house, which as far as Hogwarts magic was concerned consisted solely of him, as he was the only student sorted into it, even if the un-sorted first years had been grouped into it, _did not have a name yet._

"Five points from your house, whatever its name is!" Snape snapped, "For ignoring a professor!"

"What?" Iron Hands asked, clearly confused, "But you didn't call on me!"

"Of course I did!" Snape snapped, "Just because you've apparently gone _deaf_ is no excuse for ignoring your betters!"

Iron Hands stared up at the professor in disbelieving confusion for a moment, before turning to the rest of the class.

"Did anyone else here him say all, or any part of, 'Iron Hands McAwesome Genome?'" He asked.

Nobody dared speak, though a few shook their heads.

"Well, professor," Iron Hands said, turning back to face Snape, "It would appear that you were mistaken."

Snape's temper _boiled._

"POTTER!" He screamed, grabbing the boy by his shoulder, and spinning around to glare him in the eye, pouring the full weight of his mind into a Legilimancy attack.

Snape had, however, made a single, critical miscalculation, he hadn't realized that Iron Hands was _Invincible._

Snape's mind smashed into Harry's much in the way that an egg smashes into a bullet train accelerating to Mach 3; very messily.

Snape gurgled as his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed, bits and pieces of his mind either splattering into the mind of others, or into an intangible mess spread about the dungeon classroom. The most immediately important bit to end up in the mind of another, was an odd, malformed bit that ended up in the mind of one Hermione Granger, coming to immediate and startling effect.

"Right then class," Hermione announced, standing up sharply, and striding to the front of the classroom, stepping on Snape's comatose form as she moved, "Today's lesson will be on one of the most useful of all potions, the Teeth Cleansing potion."

"But what about-" One of the Slytherin students began, but broke off for a very simple reason.

Hermione _Looked_ at him.

"As I said," Hermione began again, "The Teeth Cleansing potion, which is remarkably simple, requiring only one hundred and thirty-seven ingredients and two-hundred and twenty-seven distinct steps, and thirty-seven sub-steps. It has the remarkable property of rendering your teeth permanently immune to decay, damage, staining, or dirtying in any form, in part due to the arithmantic significance of three sevens being involved in its..."

((()))

Two hours later:

The students staggered out of the potions classroom with glassy eyes and twitch fingers, jumping slightly whenever they caught sight of Hermione, who was happily humming to herself as she walked in front of the group.

All the students, that was, except for Iron Hands.

"Ahh," Neville said slowly, his brain trying to clear from a haze of numbers, ingredients, stirring instructions, heating instructions, chopping instructions, _dicing_ instructions, _shredding_ instructions-

Neville shook his head sharply, desperately trying to break that chain of thought.

"Ah," He said, looking to the person next to him, who happened to be Iron Hands, "That was.. uh... what did you think of that lesson Ha-, uh, Iron Hands?"

"_Fascinating,_" Harry said brightly, "Mama Nia always emphasized the importance of proper dental hygiene."

Every single other student in the class stared at Iron Hands, flabbergasted, except for Hermione, who simply smiled as she continued onward.

((()))

Defense Against the Dark Arts bore some remarkable similarities to Iron Hands first Potions class; Quirrell stared Iron Hands in the eyes for a few moments, before he collapsed, gurgling, to the floor. Seeing no reason not to pull a repeat performance, Hermione moved to the front of class and took over for the incapacitated Professor.

As with before, Iron Hands didn't even notice the attack on his mind.

((()))

"UP!" Iron Hands firmly commanded the broom, which slammed into his hand, and promptly dragged him into the sky, shattering the sound barrier as its ascension accelerated.

After spending a few minutes stargazing, Iron Hands descended back down to Hogwarts to rejoin the other students.

((()))

"Troll! In the dungeons!" Quirrel burst out, "Thought you ought to know."

As Quirrel's 'unconscious' body struck the floor of the Great Hall, Iron Hands leapt to his feat.

"AWESOME!" He shouted, "I've been waiting for this since the sorting! Best Halloween ever!"

Then he tore out of the hall, running at top speed.

It took a moment for the faculty to realize that Iron Hands had sprinted _towards_ the Troll's purported location, and then pandemonium erupted in the Great Hall.

((()))

"There you are!" Iron Hands said, breathing somewhat heavily as he strode purposefully towards the Troll in the girl's bathroom, "Hiding won't do you any good!"

The Troll turned to stare at Iron Hands in stupefied confusion as the skinny eleven-year-old cracked his knuckles and _smiled_ at the creature more than twice his height, and _leapt_ at it.

((()))

"You are _certain_ that he intends to wrestle with the Troll?" McGonagall warily asked Hermione as they tracked the Troll, by scent, through the castle.

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione said respectfully, "Iron Hands would probably wrestle with a _Dragon_ if he had the opportunity. He literally believes he is _invincible_."

"I am quite aware of young Mister Genome's confidence," Minerva said crisply, "It is, in fact, quite reminiscent of his father. I do not, however-"

McGonagall broke off as a door a mere half-dozen paces in front of them exploded out into the hall, the object that had smashed it bouncing off of the far wall of the corridor, before leaping back to its feat.

McGonagall stared in shock.

Hermione smacked her palm into her face, and groaned in resignation.

Iron Hands leapt back to his feet, and charged back into the bathroom.

"You're good!" He shouted, "BUT I'M BETTER!"

_Smack._

A bestial roar of pain.

_Crash_.

Shards of porcelain ricocheted out into the corridor.

_Thump_.

"Oh, not bad, not bad!" Iron hands said, mad excitement dominating his voice.

_Wham._

A roar of outrage and disbelief.

McGonagall finally managed to regain her wits, and started towards the bathroom, readying her wand, when the walls around the door exploded outward, sending fragments of stone rattling down the wall, the object that had smashed it bouncing off the far wall of the corridor, before leaping back to its feat.

McGonagall stared in shock.

Hermione's eyes went wide.

The Troll screamed in outrage.

Iron Hands shot out of the bathroom like a cannonball, charging head first into the Troll's stomach, slamming it back into the wall again, and causing it to double over.

McGonagall's jaw worked silently.

Hermione fumbled for her wand.

"HEAD SMASHER!" Iron Hands roared, seizing the Troll by its waistband and lifting it over his head, before smashing it head-first into the stone floor of the corridor, stunning it.

Iron Hands then rolled out from underneath the creature as it slumped to the floor, then jumped onto its back, grabbed its right hand, and forced it into a half-nelson.

"Say uncle!" Iron Hands shouted, "SAY IT!"

The Troll shook its head, and began to thrash, trying to throw off the boy on its back, but Iron Hands just applied more pressure, and pushed down on the Troll's shoulder, pinning it more firmly into place.

"_SAY IT!" _He roared.

"Grunkle!" The Troll garbled out, and Iron Hands promptly headbutted it, knocking it clear out.

"Awesome!" Iron Hands shouted happily as he jumped off of the Troll's insensate body, just in time to see Flitwick and Snape approaching, "I win!"

Snape, Flitwick, and McGonagall all _stared_.

((()))

"Did you hear what happened to Snape?"

"Yeah, same thing happened to Quirrel, passed out in class with the firsties, didn't wake up until the next day, and couldn't remember anything since the beginning of class."

"I hear it happened after they looked into Potter-er, _Genome_'s eyes."

"Same thing I heard. What do you think?"

"Dunno, wish it'd been on the same day as my Potions class though..."

"Yeah, Snape's a git."

((()))

"Well, Poppy, how is he?" Dumbledore asked with a smile.

"Heavy bruising," Pomfrey said, shaking her head ruefully, "His shoulder was nearly dislocated, several cracked ribs, he'll probably be coughing up blood for a few days, and his skull and several ribs are suffering from hairline fractures."

"Merlin!" Dumbledore said, having gone _very_ pale, "I had thought young Harry had suffered no serious injuries?"

"Mister Genome?" Pomfrey said, raising an eyebrow, "Not a scratch; I thought you were asking about the _Troll_."

Dumbledore decided he needed a drink.

((()))

"I have heard," Snape said, glaring at the first-year class, "That I collapsed the last time I taught this class, though I do not remember it myself. I have _also_ heard," He turned to Iron Hands, "That Potter here had something to do with it."

He glared at Iron Hands again, who met his gaze curiously.

Snape's mind went splattering all over the classroom again, and Hermione gained some more experience teaching. She was discovering she rather liked it.

((()))

Quirrel _glared _at Iron Hands, but his mind became mush before most of the class was even aware of it.

The first years were beginning to appreciate Hermione's teaching style, so long as nobody questioned her about teeth.

((()))

"So, what are you guys doing during Christmas Break?" Iron Hands asked as he joined Hermione, Neville, and Ron at the still-unnamed table for the still-unnamed house.

"Spending it with me gran," Neville said after swallowing a mouthful of bacon.

"Acquiring needed potions ingredients for the Teeth Cleansing Potion," Hermione said without looking up from her _copious_ notes on said potion, "And working with my parents on developing a distribution network for it in the muggle world."

"Uh," Ron said hesitantly, "You know doing magic in front of muggles is illegal, right?"

Hermione _Looked_ at him.

"The importance of dental health surpasses petty things such as the International Statute of Secrecy," Hermione said with _painful_ precision, then turned to Iron Hands and smiled, "So Iron Hands, what will you be doing over break?"

"I'll be swimming home to see my family," Iron Hands said.

The other three got a good laugh out of that.

((()))

"Iron Hands!" Nia said as the muscular boy as he waded up onto the sandy shore of Teppelin Beach, "I'm so glad you made it home! How was your trip?"

Iron Hands returned his adoptive mother's hug, neither caring that he was soaking her clothes with salt water.

"Invigorating," He said, "But I must say, Halibut taste much better cooked."

((()))

Next time I post on this, no idea when I will, it should go to the end of first year, depending on how much I decide to write about Winter break, if any. Until next time, MAY THE FLAMES OF YOUTH BE WITH YOU!


	5. Beard

AN: ALLLL THEEEEE WAAAYYYYY!

((()))

Behind Ryan's Beard, is another beard.

Out of jealousy, the Dwarvish nation declared war on Ryan's Beard. When was the last time you saw a Dwarf?

Life is horrible, then there is Ryan's Beard.

A list of the top ten enemies of life was compiled; all of them were hairs in Ryan's beard.

Cave Bears live in Caves, Ryan's Beard lives on his Chin.

Zod kneels before Ryan's Beard.

Before entering a barber shop, listen carefully for the sound of shattering razors; Ryan's Beard might have gotten there first.

Ryan's Beard hungers. It hungers for _Justice_.

Spider silk used to be the material with the highest known tensile strength. This was before Ryan's Beard.

Someone once claimed that Ryan's beard was incapable of time travel. Now no one can find record of who made the claim.


	6. HPDK: THREE ARACHIS HYPOGAEA OF VICTORY!

Chapter THREE! For the THREE PEANUTS with which Iron Hands will CHANGE THE WORLD!

((()))

"Welcome back, Iron Hands!" Hermione said, smiling brightly, "How was your break?"

"Pretty good," Iron Hands said, dropping his trunk in front of the fire to thaw out, some ice chipping off as he did so, "The swim was brisk and refreshing, and it was nice to have a practical use for all that astronomy we've been learning. How was yours?"

"Oh, excellent," Hermione said, "My parents were thrilled with the potion, and cleared out one of the rooms at their practice to set up an automated production facility. It's been ever so interesting, what with the-"

Iron Hands pulled out an ice pick, and listened attentively as he began chipping the frozen saltwater off of his his trunk; it had been particularly cold during the walk across Scotland, and he was hoping to remove most of the ice before it melted and soaked the common room's carpeting.

((()))

At dinner that night, there were peanuts. Peanuts which were present due to a certain, planned prank on the part of the Weasley twins, targeting the firsties, or more specifically the firsties at the 'hat in space' table, since they were easiest to target. First semester was over, after all, and as far as the Twins were concerned, that meant that the firsties were now fair game. Unfortunately, they had not taken into account the fact that Hogwarts did not, in fact, habitually serve peanut butter, and Iron Hands, having been raised American, was quite fond of the stuff.

Thus, every last peanut on the 'hat in space' table was passed along to Iron Hands, who crushed them into a pulpy mass with his bare hands, before spreading the results on his breakfast toast. Only one peanut escaped a buttery doom, the compressive force of his mighty fists instead causing it to rocket out across the Great Hall, crashing into the goblet of one Quirrinus Quirrel, and spilling hot tea all over the unfortunate instructor's lap.

This would be the first in a series of events that began with Quirrel being slightly delayed in grading the fifth year's latest set of assignments, and would end with him entering the Forbidden Forest a few minutes later several months down the road.

Of course, once the peanut-butter on Iron Hand's toast tried to jump up and start screaming about being eaten, which Iron Hands responded to by headbutting the offending paste into submission, most everybody forgot Quirrel's early departure.

((()))

Iron Hands abruptly leapt to his feet, and stared wildly around.

"Awesome senses tingling!" He declared, "I must track this awesomeness down and take part in it!"

With that, he rushed out of the 'Hat in Space' common room, breaking for the nearest exit from the castle.

((()))

Hagrid was rather startled by the sudden pounding on the door of his little hut, but quickly moved from the fireplace to the door, and cracked it open to see who was there.

"Harry?" He said, somewhat confused at the boy's presence "What brings you ter my door?"

"I sense _awesome_ within this house!" Iron Hands declared, practically vibrating with enthusiasm, "And it's Iron Hands, not Harry. What's going on in here?"

"Er," Hagrid said, "What makes you think anything's going on?"

Iron Hands suddenly became very serious, and stared up at Hagrid gravely.

"I can _feel_ it," Iron Hands said, "It is as a disturbance in the Force, drawing me in and demanding I take part."

"What?" Hagrid asked, scratching his head in confusion, and for a moment, taking his eyes off of Iron Hands.

When he looked back to the doorway, Iron Hands was no longer there.

"A Dragon egg?" Iron Hands said excitedly from the fireplace, "_Awesome_."

Hagrid felt a sinking sensation in his chest, but he ignored it in favor of exultant discourse about his soon-to-be pet Dragon.

((()))

_Quidditch_, Iron hands decided, _Is entirely an odd sport._

He was much more accustomed to manlier activities, such as American Football, Rugby, Hockey, and Boxing, and found the lack of direct physical contact in the sport disappointing. Still, he thought he could get behind the role of Beater, and was impressed by the skills demonstrated by the Chasers, Keepers, and Seekers. Well, _some _of the Seekers anyways, Slytherin and Gryffindor's weren't much to speak of.

Watching Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw compete with each other was interesting, at least. The Chaser teams were fairly well matched, and word around the school had it that the Hufflepuff Seeker was more talented, but the Ravenclaw seeker was much more experienced.

The game became considerably more interesting, however, when one of the Seeker's brooms began to malfunction, causing it to drop on a ballistic course towards the stands. Particularly, the patch of stand that Iron Hands was seated in. Most of the student body considered this an unfortunate thing; Iron Hands considered it ideal, like most of his life since he'd been freed from the Dursleys.

The pretty oriental chaser crashed into him at top speed for her broom, the wooden shaft shattering into splinters and sawdust as it struck his chest, and his arms neatly plucking the second-year out of the air as his magic responded to his subconscious demand that he heroically save her.

"Are you alright?" He gently asked the girl as she stared up at him in shock.

((()))

"Iren Hands!" Hagrid said as he opened the door, "Good ter see yeh! Come in, he's jes' about ter hatch!"

"That's great!" Iron Hands said brightly, "I brought a few friends with to watch, is that okay?"

"Er," Hagrid said as he took in the small swarm of first through third year students behind Iron Hands, "I guess?"

"Great!" Iron Hands said, then lead the charge over to the fireplace.

Following him was a curious Ron Weasley, a somewhat nervous Neville Longbottom, one Hermione Granger that was torn between worry and fascination, a faintly blushing Cho Chang, and the _madly _grinning Fred and George Weasley. Hagrid wasn't sure if he should be worried about one of the students getting him in trouble, or excited that so many were showing interests similar to his own.

"It's starting to hatch!" Ron Weasley declared excitedly, thoroughly derailing Hagrid's train of thought.

Over the next few minutes, the assembled Hogwarts residents watched as the wyrmling Dragon gradually boke its way out of its shell.

Then promptly belched fire onto Iron Hands.

"Awesome!" Iron Hands said, completely ignoring the smoke-stains on his face, and the fact that his robes were _on fire_.

Hagrid quite agreed.

((()))

The second peanut event happened on Valentine's Day. Iron Hands had looted some of the peanuts from the breakfast table that morning, and was snacking on them as he moved from class to class, when he accidentally dropped one to the corridor floor, not noticing it and leaving it there. As it was one of the corridors Argus Filch had appointed for himself to clean, the House Elves left it be, and more than a month later, Quirrinus Quirrel would trip over it, resulting in him being another two minutes late in entering the Forbidden Forest.

((()))

"Iron Hands," Hermione said with somewhat strained patience.

"Yes, Hermione," Iron Hands said from where he was wrestling with Norbert as though he _didn't_ have claws capable of easily cutting through sheet metal.

"I understand that you're fond of Norbert," She said, "And it's very kind of you to babysit him so that Hagrid can spend more time attending to his duties, but _surely_ you understand that a _fire-breathing_ Dragon cannot continue to live in a _wooden_ hut!"

"But Hermione," Iron Hands said as he carefully pinned the Dragon in a half-nelson, "We can just use magic to make the hut flame-proof!"

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, paused, realized she was going to have to come up with a different line of reasoning to convince Iron Hands and Hagrid to give up the Dragon, then closed her mouth and scowled.

This was _not_ how she wanted to spend her weekends for the rest of the year. She had _studying_ to do.

((()))

"Potter!" Snape raged, lurching towards the boy seated at the front of his class, "Respect! None! Brat! Blarght!"

Then he glared the boy in the eye, and his mind went splat all over again.

((()))

"Are yeh _sure_ that Dragons need social contact with other Dragons?" Hagrid asked sadly as he slowly finished packing Norbert into a padded (and magically fireproofed) crate.

"Quite," Hermione said, doing an admirable job of hiding her relief, "I'm sorry that you have to be separated, but this really is best for Norbert."

"Don't worry Hagrid," Ron said, "You know Charlie, he'll take good care of Norbert."

"I suppose he will," Hagrid allowed, valiantly holding back tears, "Jes make sure yeh're careful with him, right?"

"No worries, Hagrid," Iron Hands said gravely, "We'll make _sure_ he's passed off safely to the Dragon Handlers."

"Aye," Hagrid said, "Good luck fer yeh all then. Be careful."

((()))

They did, in fact, get caught; one Draco Malfoy had apparently discovered their plans somehow, and ratted them out to McGonagall. Fortunately, they'd already passed the Dragon off, but the lot of them still ended up with detention, including Dracon Malfoy. For reasons beyond the comprehension of Hermione, for some reason they were sent to serve their detention in the _Forbidden Forest_. Fortunately, she was grouped with Iron Hands, and as she'd learned, it was pretty hard to get hurt when Iron Hands was protecting you.

((()))

"Hunting _Unicorns,_" Malfoy said scornfully, "What on _earth_ do they hope for us to accomplish. There's no _way_ we'll be able to catch a _unicorn_. We're _first years_."

"I don't see why not," Iron Hands said as he munched on a handful of peanuts, "It's apparently wounded. I mean look."

Iron Hands pointed to a trail of silvery blotches that the others hadn't noticed yet.

"Oh," Hermione said faintly, worry creasing her brow as they closed to inspect it more carefully.

"We should hurry," Iron Hands said, "This blood is fresh, and if it's still bleeding, it could be badly wounded."

He took off running after the trail, the others following close behind.

((()))

"STOP RIGHT THERE, VILLAIN!" Iron hands shouted, "UNHAND THAT CREATURE!"

More than slightly startled, Quirrelmort dropped his knife, and turned to find a pair of terrified firsties at the edge of the clearing, and one utterly fearless Iron Hands McAwesome Genome sprinting across the clearing towards him. Acting reflexively, Quirrel hurled a spell at the fearless young man, which shredded the front of his robe before splattering harmlessly off of his well-muscled (for an eleven year old) chest.

Having long since been taught by his Uncle Kamina what to do when someone took a shot at you, Iron Hands took a shot right back, throwing what happened to be in his hand at Quirrelmort. What happened to be in his hand was a bag of peanuts, which scattered through the air between them

Quirrelmort opened his mouth to cast a curse, and one peanut found its way inside.

Quirrinus Quirrel, it turned out, was allergic to peanuts.

_Deathly _allergic.

And thus, did the world change.

((()))

AN: I'm allergic to peanuts, though not deathly so. did anybody guess?

Also, Kamina demands to know WHERE THE HELL IS HIS SCREEN TIME?


	7. More Beard

AN: It's like an electrical storm right in front of my retinas!

((()))

Ryan's Beard does not get shaved or trimmed, it periodically turns on itself to thin out the weak.

Ryan does not open doors; his Beard intimidates them into giving way.

In the age when pirates were known by their Beards, Ryan's Beard was _all_ of them. _At the same time_.

Ryan's Beard has met Starswirl the Bearded.

Ryan's Beard taught Happosai Anything Goes Martial Arts. Such is Happosai's fear of Beards, that he refuses to grow the traditional 'Ancient Master' martial artist's beard. He also refuses to allow his students to grow beards.

Paul Bunyan was Ryan's Beard in a clever disguise.

Ryan's Beard was once the dictator of a third world country. It wasn't worth its time.

The USSR once lost a test missile during the Cold War. Since that day, Ryan's Beard has been a Nuclear Power.

Ryan's Beard was asked to audition as a villain for Sailor Moon, but was too terrifying for the target audience, and Pharoah 90 and Wiseman threatened to quit out of jealousy. (The Shittenou were found crying in a closet over their lack of manliness)

Ryan's Beard demanded tribute of the Elemental Nations and the Hidden Villages. Only the Sarutobi clan were wise enough to pay. Beards have been mighty scarce amongst the other clans ever since.

((()))

Omake:

One day, Ryan was making use of the facilities, when a fly began buzzing about and troubling him. Due to its speed and size, he was at first unable to swat it, however, soon it landed on the window. This being a part of the world with heavy winter, there was both an outer and an inner window, the fly having just landed on the outer. Ryan proceeded to close the window, then swat the inner window over where the fly had landed.

Over a short period of time, the fly became accustomed to the motion of Ryan's hand, and learned to ignore it. Then Ryan opened the window, and swatted the fly.

The moral of the story: Ryan will use behavioral psychology to exterminate nuisances.

Translation: Ryan can kill you _with your mind_.

((()))

AN: I'll also be posting more of Cameron's Legacy on Space Battles this weekend, bar unforeseen complications. If you want to see it on FFnet, you'll have to wait another week. In case it wasn't clear, The Blender is not exclusive to Harry Potter stories.


	8. HP: A competent professor

AN: This story will, in essence, be a side-story to what could have been Harry Potter, if one of the 'competent' adults in the series had been replaced with a character that was actually written, like a competent adult. I will also be using it to test out some concepts for Brutal Harry's sequel, so some content might hold over, but no promises. Expect a _great deal_ of applied psychology, general, child, and developmental. That is what this story is _for_, to show how some fields that people consider 'for the academics' are actually critical to everyone's life, every day.

((()))

Harry looked up at the staff table, and two professors in particular caught his eye. The first was one wearing a ridiculously large turban, whose face he could not see, because the man was looking away, with the back of his turban directed towards Harry. The second was a young man, Harry estimated to be in his mid twenties, who was wearing _normal_ clothing, rather than the robes that Wizards favored. As he watched, the second professor turned and met his gaze, looking at Harry with an intensity that surprised the boy.

Then Harry felt a sharp pain in his scare, and broke eye contact.

((()))

"Come in, everyone, and sit down," The man said as the Slytherins filed into their common room for the first time that year, "I am Isaac Trailbreaker. Those who have fought me in full-contact spars, or survived me in real combat, frequently call me 'Bandersnatch.' I am your new head of house."

He spoke with a very faint American accent, so faint that only half of the students even noticed it, and stood tall at six feet two inches, with short brown hair, blue eyes, and a clean-shaven face that was neither particularly handsome nor homely. In fact, the only particularly notable feature about him physically, was his height, and that he did not wear wizarding robes. As the Slytherins seated themselves about their rather austere common room, however, he took the time to lock gazes with each and every one of them, and many found the intensity of his scrutiny unnerving. His bright red shirt and dark blue pants were particularly jarring as they clashed heavily with the finely-crafted furniture and adornments of the room, all done in silver or green.

"I am sure many of you," He said, voice projecting clearly through the common room as he began to pace about, gaze moving from student to student, "Particularly those with an affinity for Potions and returning students, are curious as to what has happened to Severus Snape, your former head of house and Potions Professor."

A number of the students nodded, particularly the prefects and one Draco Malfoy.

"The answer to that question is simple," Trailbreaker said, "By happenstance, Snape and I were both in Brazil late this summer, I on retainer to a cursebreaker expedition, I believe Snape was collecting potions ingredients. We came into conflict over his treatment of one of the local laborers, and he chose to initiate a fight with me. Then he chose to begin using lethal spells."

He swept a hard gaze across the entire assemblage of students.

"I am a fully certified Battle Mage within the American system of magic," He said harshly, "Something that roughly translates to a Defense Mastery within the European system.

"I killed him."

Shocked gasps rose up from within a large segment of the Slytherins, and some of the older students faces revealed blooming anger. Trailbreaker took a moment to outright _glare_ at each of these students, especially Marcus Flint, and Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was cowed, but Flint rose to the challenge.

"If you killed him," Flint demanded as he stood and lay his hand on his wand, "What are you doing here, instead of in Azkaban?"

"Because, student of mine," Trailbreaker said harshly, glaring at the boy, "We were in _Brazil_, not in England. He attacked me with lethal magic, after I _warned_ him that I was a certified Battle Mage. More, he was firing off lethal spells in an occupied marketplace. I was arrested, and brought to a court hearing within Brazil for my involvement in the incident. I was cleared of any wrongdoing, and, in fact, rewarded for ending a threat to the public. A dozen people were injured, some of them very seriously, before I killed the man."

"I don't believe you," Flint snarled, glaring right back at the man.

"That's perfectly fine," Trailbreaker, "But understand that you _have_ been warned. When you take up a wand to attack another, I _will_ respond with force, and force proportionate to the spells you cast. As part of my employment agreement with Dumbledore, I will not respond to potentially lethal spells directed at myself with similar force, but if you use such spells on another student, I _will._"

The staring contest between Flint and Trailbreaker continued; Flint discomfited by the older man's words, but unwilling to lose face by backing down. The issue was made moot, when one of the other students decided to attack Trailbreaker from behind.

"Stup-" Hector Gamp shouted out, as he rose from his seat, wand in hand.

Isaac had started to move before Gamp's wand was even drawn, pivoting in place and lashing out with an empty hand, silently banishing the sixth-year Slytherin across the common room into the wall, summoning his wand out of his hand before the boy even struck the wall. Flint tried to use the opportunity to get the drop on Trailbreaker, but the older man spun in place, bringing his leg up into a high kick that not only smashed Flint's wand out of his hand, but broke his wrist and three of the bones in the process.

Flint screamed, clutching his pulped right hand, with his still-intact right, completely taking his attention off of Trailbreaker, which made it much easier for the new head of Slytherin house to slam his fist straight into Flint's nose, smashing it, and unbeknownst to the other Slytherins, delivering a contact stunner that rendered the boy thoroughly unconscious. As the boy fell, Trailbreaker delivered two rapid-fire side kicks to Flint's knees, shattering both of them, then once the boy was on the floor, he stomped on both elbows, breaking _them_, before very pointedly flashing a visible stunner from his bare hand into the boy's insensate body.

He then turned and summoned Gamp across the room towards him, bracing himself, then slamming his left fist into the boy's gut, folding him over. Isaac then pounded both of his elbows into the back of Gamp's head, a contact stunned again rendering the boy unconscious, before breaking the boy's nose against his knee, and hurling the collapsed body down onto the floor beside Flint.

Utter silence reigned in the common room.

"Would anybody else care for a try?" Trailbreaker said in a quiet, deadly tone of voice, as he wiped blood off of his knuckles.

Nobody dared say a word.

"When a teacher," Trailbreaker continued in that same quiet tone, sweeping his gaze across the other students, all of whom were white-faced, and some of whom were trembling, "Especially your head of house, asks you a question, you respond to it. I will ask again, would anyone else care for a try?"

Again, no one responded.

"The two correct responses," Trailbreaker said, "Are either 'Yes sir,' or 'no sir.' Every student in this room who has not responded with one or the other in the next sixty seconds, I will assume has chosen to challenge my authority," Trailbreaker gestured to the two students at his feet, "Like these two down here,"

A cavalcade of 'No sir's' washed over the common room, and Trailbreaker swiftly looked about, to make sure _everyone_ had spoken.

"Note here," Trailbreaker said in a more normal tone of voice once they were finished, "That I both used non-lethal force, and that I _did not attack until they did_. I desire your respect," He swept his gaze across the room once again, "But if you will not respect me for who I am, I will not pander to your tastes. I am now an authority figure over you, and am thus charged with enforcing both the peace, and a set of rules. If you will not _respect_ me, then you will _fear_ me. If you do not initiate violence, like these two idiots, then you have no need to fear violence from me."

No one said anything as he swept his gaze across them for the final time that night.

"Alright then," He said, "The seventh year prefects will take these two to the infirmary. Goodnight."

And with that, he left.

((()))

The first staff meeting of the year, held the next morning, was mostly the usual laid back affair amongst the teachers, with a slight bit of uncertainty over Snape's replacement. At least, it was until said replacement arrived at the meeting.

Then things became _incredibly_ tense.

"I'm curious," Isaac said as he walked into the cozy staff room, radiating a silent aggression, then sat between Flitwick and Filch, the seat Snape had occupied during staff meetings in the past, "As to what the expected qualities of a Hogwarts graduate are?"

"Well," Dumbledore said jovially, utterly ignoring Trailbreaker's aggressive and tense body language, "Certainly they should have performed competently on at least three OWLS and NEWTS, and be prepared to function as happy, constructive members of Wizarding England."

"That's strange," Isaac said after a moment had passed, "Because after having gone over the student records, and now having met myself, I had come to the conclusion that Hogwarts deliberately trained Gryffindor's to be vigilantes, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff's to be victims, Slytherin's to be hardened criminals, and all of them to have absolutely no respect for authority whatsoever."

All activity, and all sound, within the staff room came to a dead stop.

"I don't suppose," Dumbledore eventually said, "That you would care to explain exactly how you came to this unfortunate conclusion?"

"It is very simple," Trailblazer said, "The Slytherins have been permitted to run rampant within the school, verbally and physically abusing the other students, while their head of house protected them from any consequences or retribution greater than a slap on the wrist. Save for when Gryffindor students took matters into their own hands. This seemed fairly obvious from what I read in the school records of various incidents and punishments dealt out for their behavior. However, I did not wish to draw premature conclusions without direct experience. Then two of my new house members attacked me."

Sprout's face paled. Flitwick became very still. McGonagall's expression became particularly stern. Filch scowled. Sinistra shrank slightly in her seat. Vector's lips pressed into a painfully thin line. Grubbly-Plank looked like he was fighting back laughter. Babbling appeared uncertain how to react. Trewlany decided it was time for more Sherry. Pomfrey already knew exactly what had happened, and wasn't sure whether to glare at Trailbreaker or not.

Dumbledore merely looked concerned.

"I hope you weren't too stiff in rebuking them," He said with a slight hint of worry in his voice.

"Nothing Pomfrey was unable to fix by morning," Isaac said evenly, "But sufficient that I do not expect to experience discipline problems again in the near future."

"What is it that your students chose to attack you over, anyways?" Flitwick asked curiously.

"I informed them of the circumstances surrounding my employment here at Hogwarts," Isaac said, "They were attempting to deny the truth, and acted violently. I had not even begun to talk about how things would be changing under my leadership," He turned to face Dumbledore, his voice becoming incredibly harsh "Tell me, _Headmaster_, do you think the little cadre of criminals you've been training down there might have been pushed over the edge by racism, because I'm American?"

Albus Dumbledore, for the first time in the memory of any of the currently present staff members, became visibly flustered.

"It has been a long time since someone has deliberately baited me," He said with some tension in his voice.

"Well," Isaac said harshly, "It has been a long time since I have visited a murder factory pretending to be an upstanding center of education. One could say I had _never_ been to such a place before. On any other continent, you would be under investigation to see if the handling of the school thus far was due to gross incompetence, or deliberate malignance. Have _none_ of you studied Psychology _at all?_"

An embarrassed silence filled the room, Professor Babbling hesitantly raising her hand.

"A little," She said, her voice faint with something a shade short of fear.

Isaac closed his eyes, and began massaging the bridge of his nose with his left hand. Taking several long, deep breaths before speaking again.

"I have no authority to command any of you," He said, still not opening his eyes, "But I will be acquiring a number of volumes on human psychology. I _strongly_ suggest that you all read them. It will be much easier for me to shape this place up if the rest of you are working with, rather than against me."

Then he got up from the table, and left. Silence reigned in the staff room for some time.

"Well," McGonagall said with a scowl, "There is an arrogant young man with a great deal of presumption, and little in the way of manners."

"Really?" Flitwick said, turning to face the larger Witch, "Compared to Severus?"

"For all of Severus unpleasant personality," McGonagall said, "He never presumed to question our teaching methods, or the Headmaster's administrative practices."

"He hardly suffered for us to do the same though, did he?" Sprout said, "I would say that Mister Trailbreaker being arrogant or presumptive, is entirely dependent upon whether or not he's _right_ wouldn't you?"

"I suppose," Dumbledore said with a nod, "I will note that Isaac did not question the validity of anyone's _teaching_ methods, but the validity of our _disciplinary_ methods. While I quite object to the blunt manner of his communication, I believe that in all fairness, we should give him a chance to prove himself."

"Well," McGonagall huffed, "His manners are still _abysmal_."

((()))

The first thing Isaac had done once he had completed working through his curriculum, was rearrange the entire class schedule for potions. The primary difference, was in grouping each year together in their entirety, all four houses at once. The second, was the scheduling of the classes; First Years together Monday morning, Second Years Monday after lunch, Third, Fourth, and Fifth years on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday mornings respectively, and the much smaller sixth and seventh year NEWT classes combined in two periods, directly before and directly after lunch.

His intention was to persuade the House Elves to feed them in the potions dungeon eventually, and work clear from nine AM, to four PM, allowing a more comprehensive and immersive learning experience.

Before any of his grander plans can proceed though, there is his first class, with his first batch of students, the first years.

"Good morning everyone," Isaac said pleasantly once the students had all arrived, and class period had begun, "I am Isaac Trailbreaker, Hogwarts new Potions instructor, and as you have no doubt already noticed, I am running things a little bit differently."

He paused a moment to let the students soak that up, some of them nodding, before continuing.

"In this class, you may address me as either 'Teacher' or 'Mister Trailbreaker,' as I am not, in fact a Potions Master, though I am more than sufficiently qualified to teach the subject, my true area of specialty is what you would call Defense. As my new students in Slytherin have already learned."

He paused again to sweep his gaze across the corner of the dungeon where the Slytherin's had seated themselves, not threatening, but warning.

"Although none of you have experienced my predecessor's, teaching methods," He continued, "I expect that all of you, particularly the first generation magicals present, have experienced formal lessons of _some_ sort before, even if only from your parents, so you may find my teaching methods to be strange. First off," He said, moving to his desk and seating himself atop it, "Raise your hand if you're familiar with the term 'Critical Thinking.'"

Seated on his desk, he was perched high enough to see all of the students clearly in spite of how tightly packed the dungeon was. To his disappointment, but not surprise, only four students raised their hands; Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, Hermione Granger, and Dean Thomas. It was a rather sad showing, out of a class of forty.

"I suppose that isn't exactly surprising," He said, "Starting with Miss Abbot and Miss Bones," He said, gesturing to the two girls who were seated together, "Where did you learn about it?"

"My auntie is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Susan Bones said, "I've asked her sometimes about her work, and she taught me some about how to figure out what people are thinking."

"I was with her for some of those conversations," Hannah Abbot added hesitantly.

"That's good," Trailbreaker said with a nod, "What about you, Mister Thomas?"

"My mum follows politics," Dean Thomas said with a small smile, "Gets quite passionate about it. Insisted on teaching me and all of my siblings how to look through what people are saying, to what they're actually doing. Irritated some of my teachers right smart in primary school."

"Ah, a woman after my own heart," Isaac said with a smile, before turning to the bushy-haired girl in the front row, "And you, Miss Granger?"

"I read a great deal," Hermione Granger said, "Critical thinking was covered in some of the Logic texts I read."

"Very good," Isaac said, nodding, "Understanding is a treasure without price. Now, for the benefit of those of you who are _not_ familiar with Critical Thinking, I will now explain it for you."

Trailbreaker stood again, and began pacing back and forth in front of the class, voice beginning to rise as he spoke.

"Critical Thinking is defined by many different people in slightly or substantially different ways, but the definition that will matter for you while _I_ am teaching you, is fairly straightforward. Critical Thinking is questioning, testing, and reaching the fundamental relevance of something. This is something that is useful in _every _field of life, not just Potions, and I hope you will learn it and apply it equally well in your other pursuits. Now, I will begin teaching you Critical Thinking with an example."

He stopped, ran his gaze across the entire class, and then focused on Hermione.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, _w__hy_ are you taking a class on Potions?" He asked.

"Because it's a part of the Hogwarts core curriculum," Granger said promptly, in the manner Isaac was accustomed to seeing from those who took to academics like a fish to water.

"Of course," Trailbreaker said, nodding amiably, "So why is it a part of the Hogwarts core curriculum?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, and rather abruptly realized she didn't have a ready answer for that. It did not take her long, however, to formulate one.

"Because Potion-making is one of the primary magical disciplines, and is used in a number of professions," She said after a moment's pause.

"A reasonable enough answer," Isaac said pleasantly, "So _why_ is it considered one of the primary magical disciplines?"

"Er," Hermione said, beginning to be a bit flustered, "I'm not really sure, Mister Trailbreaker."

"Well then," He said, no rebuke in his voice at her lack of answer, "Perhaps you can explain why it is taught as a core class, rather than an elective, if it is used only in _some_ professions, rather than all?"

"Um," Hermione said, now _quite_ flustered, and getting a bit panicky, "I really don't know, it wasn't covered in any of the textbooks, or any of the supplementary reading I did, and-"

"That's quite alright, Miss Granger," Isaac said gently, cutting off the girl's ramble before it could gain much momentum, "My intention was to ask you reductive questions until I found one you could not answer, and you acquited yourself quite well for a first year student, as well or better than any others I have asked such a question without prior teaching."

Hermione nodded and calmed a bit, though she was still unsettled by not having an answer to an instructor's lesson.

"Now," Trailbreaker said, addressing the class at large once more, "Does anyone else have an answer to either of those questions? Why Potions is held as a core discipline of magic, or why it is taught as a required class, rather than an elective, if it isn't used in all career paths?"

Padma Patil raised her hand.

"Miss Patil?" Isaac said.

"Potions is considered a core magical subject because it has been around for so long, and it is comparable to Charms and Transfiguration in how useful potions can be," She said.

"Indeed," Trailbreaker said, "Very good, Miss Patil, I gather you study history?"

Padma nodded.

"Anyone care to chance an answer to the other question?" Isaac asked, but nobody raised a hand, something that didn't really surprise him.

"Considering you're all first years, and few people bother to _really_ teach Critical Thinking, this isn't really surprising," Isaac said, "But that aside, this is why I _will_ be teaching you Critical Thinking. Critical Thinking isn't about the answers to the questions I've asked, or any particular answers really, if you look at it a certain way, it's about _pursuing_ those answers."

He gestured towards Padma.

"Miss Patil here, provided a reason I consider satisfactory as to why Potions is considered a core subject, however, if one wanted to push Critical Thinking to its _real_ limits, one would take things a step further, and consult histories, and test the versatility of the field oneself, to see if she is, in fact right. Critical Thinking is about questioning and testing something, until you are satisfied that it is _right._ Until it is consistent logically with the evidence available."

He paused and studied the reactions of his students, some showing the dawning light of understanding, some still showing confusion.

"Another example," Isaac said, walking to his desk, and picking up the first year Potions text, then paging through it briefly before opening it wide and showing it to the class.

"This is page eighty-three of the text your syllabus requires for this class," He said, "On it you will find the recipe for the Boil-Removal potion. If I were to say that this is the single most important potion that has ever, or will ever, be invented, what would you say to that? Raise hands please."

Hermione was the first to raise her hand, but Isaac chose to call on someone else.

"Mister Finnegan?" He called, nodding towards the Gryffindor near the middle of the class.

"I would say you're trying to pull one over on use, Prof-, er Mister Trailbreaker," Seamus Finnegan said with a slight Irish lilt.

"You'd probably be right," Isaac said with a snort, "It does seem to be a rather ludicrous claim, doesn't it? When there are far more potent potions available, the Blood-Replenisher, Polyjuice, Skele-grow, Veritaserum, the Ubiquitous Healer, there are other potions with more useful effects. On the other hand, maybe the discoveries involved in the invention of the Boil-Removal potion were fundamental to every potion developed since, or perhaps it is actually an intrinsic ingredient to all of the potions I just listed. Do any of you _know?_"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Oh?" Isaac said, smiling and raising and raising an eyebrow at the precocious Gryffindor, "I suppose you've read far enough ahead to know that at least one of the possibilities I just listed is false?"

"Yes, Mister Trailbreaker," Hermione said.

"Very good," Isaac said, "It never hurts to be well informed, though the facts themselves may sometimes be unpleasant. The reason for this second example, is to show another use of Critical Thinking, using it to disprove fraudulent claims. If you don't know how to question something critically, a charismatic and persuasive enough person could literally convince you of just about anything. Does anybody not understand?"

A few students raised their hands, but for the most part, the class understood.

"Very good then," Isaac said, "There is an hour and a half remaining in this class, you have two assignments due at your next class session, a week from now, I do not care about the _length_ of the assignment, but I do care about the quality of the _content_. If you can answer my questions well with two sentences, that will be enough. If it takes you ten pages, I will expect ten pages. If I catch you slacking and trying to turn in a short assignment, I'll grade you a lot more harshly than if you tried hard, but failed.

"Your two assignments are as follows; first, I want a paper on just what it is and is not possible to do with Potions as a whole, and second, I want a paper on what _your personal_ reason for learning Potions is. The first is to be completed before the second, as there's no point in deciding how interested you are in a field before you understand it. My office hours and location are posted at the entrance to this classroom, and I consider consulting me about these papers, _while I am in my office_ to be a perfectly legitimate source of information, as well as any other students or teachers you wish to.

"Now, those of you who still need some help understanding Critical Thinking can come to the front of the class and speak with me, the rest of you are dismissed, though I recommend you use the time remaining in this period to begin your assignments. If you're sharp, you may finish your homework before the class period even finishes, though don't undercut your efforts by rushing."

Hermione furiously waved her hand in the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Isaac said.

"Can I speak with you when you're finished?" She asked hopefully.

"Certainly, Miss Granger," He said, "You may wait here, and we can speak on the way to my office once I'm finished with your classmates."

((()))

AN: This'll probably see occasional further chapters. As usual for anything in the Blender though, no promises.


	9. Mass EffectAlpha Centauri

AN: Because somebody on SB posted something that vaguely suggested this to my brain, and I decided IT MUST BE DONE!

Also, this is _not _going to be a project I'm intending to spend much time on, this is something I'm writing because it's interesting and amusing, and will have no compunctions about putting on hiatus indefinitely, until I feel the whim to write on it again. So please enjoy, but understand it may not see completion soon, if ever. Further, I haven't bothered with formatting tags, if you want to see italics and such, wait until I post it on , most likely tomorrow night. (link to my page in my sig.)

((()))

"Zero-point Wormhole Construction Device activation in T-minus six days, thirteen hours, twelve minutes, eleven seconds."

_Ahh,_ Doctor Volinsky Federal thought, _Nothing like the sound of _progress.

Staring out at the massive edifice of a long-extinct alien race from the science bridge of the USS _Zoloto Gold_, the ranking member of the latest incarnation of the University's Trans-stellar Exploration team, Volinsky hummed happily to himself as he watched the artifact's Gravitic Manipulation Core come to life.

"Happy thoughts?" The amused voice of a woman called from behind him, and he turned to see an ebon-skinned beauty entering the science bridge, two mugs of coffee held in hand.

"Indeed," Federal said, accepting one of the mugs with a smile, "Perhaps if you sprinkle me with Zakharium I will head out through the ZWDC, turn to the second star on the right, and go straight on to Never Never Land."

"I'd say only children could go to Never Never Land," The woman said with a smile, "But I think you qualify."

"Ah, Ipse," Federal said, holding a hand over his heart, "You wound me so! I'll have you know I'm two centuries older than you, young lady!"

"Oh, I am aware," Ipse said, seating herself gracefully beside Federal, "But most all of the Universities top researchers I've met tend towards either child-like curiosity and enthusiasm, or towering ego. Those with a temperament more like yours are much more bearable."

"Clearly," Federal said with a mischevious smirk, "I must now sulk, so as to uphold your high expectations."

Instead, he kicked his feet up, and began spinning on his chair, which he had had specifically had modified to allow full and free rotation. The rest of their watch on the Science Bridge passed much in the same manner, with small talk, good-natured wit, and a general lack of visible maturity.

((()))

"You look rather poorly, Doctor Federal," Ipse said, gentle concern evident in her voice as she sat across from Volinsky at the ship's mess.

"Bah," Federal said, waving a hand dismissively, as he concentrated on inhaling his food, and scrawling out notes via the archaic medium of pen and paper, not to mention speaking with his mouth half-full of food, "One of those fools at Morgan Interstellar destroyed one of their testbeds while attempting to apply my theories on multi-cored Gravitic Manipulation Drives, yesterday, and one of his _competent_ assistants forwarded me their design schematics this morning."

"By this morning," Ipse said, "You _do_ mean Thursday morning, yes?"

"Tuesday?" Federal said, clearly startled as he looked up at Ipse for the first time, "It is Tuesday, yes?"

"Thursday, actually," Ipse said, raising a single eyebrow at him in a way that she new infuriated, since he could not do so himself, "Thursday morning to be precise, did you not notice that you were eating scrambled eggs and sausage?"

"Er, no?" Federal said, looking directly at his tray of food for the first time since he'd entered the mess, "It did seem a bit chewy for garlic bread, now that I think of it."

"Here," Ipse said warmly, passing him her coffee mug, "This should help clear your thoughts."

"Thank you, Ipse," Federal said, accepting the mug, "You're a lifesaver."

He slugged the whole thing back in a single draught, before lowering the mug with a thoughtful expression.

Then promptly fell facefirst into his breakfast, getting egg in his beard, completely unconscious.

A small round of applause passed around the ship's mess, and Ipse took a graceful bow, before drawing her gravitic manipulator, and levitating the now-snoring Volinsky out of his seat.

"Off to bed now, Doctor," She said, with no small amount of amusement in her voice, as she began conveying him out of the mess, "Well-rested scientists are more efficient scientists, and more efficient scientists are more profitable scientists."

Several of the mess's other occupants, those wearing the Morgan Merchant Core uniforms, nodded at her words as she passed them by.

((()))

"Zero-point Wormhole Construction Device activation in T-minus three days, thirteen hours, twelve minutes, eleven seconds," The ship's AI informed Federal, who simply nodded as he continued to spin in his chair.

"Any fluctuations in its Quantum Isolation Field, Beatrice?" Federal asked after a few minutes.

"None outside of accepted parameters," Beatrice, the ship's Digital Sentience, said, "Scans continue to show less fatigue on this system than all Devices activated thus far, save Device 1."

"Mmm," Zolinsky said, reversing the direction of his spin, "Almost as much a backwater as the Sol system then, to whoever built the ZWCD's then."

"Most likely fortunate for us," Beatrice said with a touch of irony, "It has allowed us more time to integrate their technology, before encountering whatever it was that destroyed them."

"Indeed," Zolinsky said, abruptly stopping his chair's spin, "Speaking of which, where is Ipse?"

"Liason Ipse Morgan is currently asleep in her quarters," Beatrice answered helpfully.

"Good," Zolinsky said, nodding and pulling his notebook and pen out of one of his labcoat's pockets, "Time for Science!"

Fifteen minutes later, he would learn that Ipse had asked Beatrice to wake him when he began work again; not that she meant to stop him, simply because she wished him to know that she was _watching_ him.

((()))

"Zero-point Wormhole Construction Device activation in T-minus, thirteen hours, twelve minutes, eleven seconds."

"You're getting fidgety, Federal," Ipse said, with clear amusement in her voice and on her face.

"Of course I'm fidgety!" Volinsky said as he stared out at the enormous artifact floating before the _Zoloto Gold,_ "We're going to _discover_ things! That is what science is all about!"

"Yes," Ipse said, and a predatory edge worked its way into her expression, "But if you don't calm down, you'll wear yourself out, and need to sleep by the time the activation is complete."

Volinsky _looked_ at her.

Ipse responded by raising an eyebrow.

"Wench," Volinsky muttered, then turned his chair away from hers, and began to sulk.

Ipse sat back in her own chair, and smiled.

_It's halfway between having a precocious nephew, and an eccentric uncle,_ She thought happily to herself.

((()))

"Doctor Federal," Beatrice announced, roughly five hours before activation, "I've detected unscheduled inbound FTL drives, drive strength appropriate to large scale freighters, but moving at speeds more appropriate to a scout Frigate."

"Show me one of the drive signatures," Volinsky said, frowning, "I assume you've already alerted the command bridge?"

"Affirmative," Beatrice said, as the Science Bridge's primary viewscreen came online, displaying an array of graphs, energy profiles, and statistics that Ipse recognized as a partial profile of an FTL drive, though comprehending the mechanics thereof was beyond her.

"No human built these drives," Volinsky said after a few moments.

"That was my conclusion as well, Doctor," Beatrice said, "Shall I patch you through to Captain Brehmes?"

"That would probably be for the best," Volinsky said as he continued to study the energy profiles, pulling up another array of data on his personal console.

A moment later, the heavily bewhiskered and deeply tanned face of Captain Brehmes, one of the University's handful of competent naval CO's, replaced part of the melange of data on the Science Bridge's primary viewscreen.

"What are we looking at, Doctor Federal?" He asked.

"Well, Captain," Federal said distractedly, looking between the main display, and his personal display, rather than face the Captain, "There's no way in Hades that they're human, and I'm pretty damn sure they're not the race that build the ZWCD's either, the refinement on their fields looks to be a generation or two ahead of ours, but nowhere near the level of the artifacts we've recovered so far."

"So," The Captain said, "Blind First Contact?"

"Blind First Contact," Volinsky said with a nod, "I'd recommend against provocative action, there's eight of them, and with the tech disparity, they could probably squash us like bugs."

"Noted," Brehmes said, "This is hardly a military vessel in any case. Bridge Out."

The communication line cut, and the Captain's face was replaced by the graph it had briefly supplanted.

"I've called the Xenological specialists and linguists to the Science Bridge, Doctor Federal," Beatrice said, "ETA on the alien fleet is approximately eight minutes."

"Thank you Beatrice," Volinsky said absently, "Could you be a dear and upload these drive signatures to the servers on Shanxi, and keep a live stream going? I'd hate to lose this data if something unfortunate were to happen."

"Certainly, doctor," Beatrice said, while Ipse shook her head at the doctor's prioritization of data storage over his own possible mortal peril.

Of course, she'd only been assigned as Federal's liaison for two months.

((()))

Eight minutes later, the unknown fleet dropped out of FTL, and responded to Captain Brehme's hail with a full barrage of kinetic weapons. The _Zoloto Gold_ was a University Research vessel shaped more or less like a cylinder, poorly armed, but quite well shielded (a neccessity with some of the more _volatile _projects the University sometimes worked on). The unidentified vessels averaged about a third of her mass each, and the opening volley from all eight vessels pounded her Stasis Shields, two of them punching through to hole the vessel across the breadth of the cylinder, crippling its Quantum Reactor.

The second volley, completely unimpeded by the _Gold's_ now-defunct shielding, was targeted more broadly across the ship's length; unfortunately one of the hostile vessels was still targeting it amidships. The kinetic round changed the Quantum Reactor from 'crippled' to 'overloaded,' and in a flash of sub-atomic energy release, vaporized the ship in its entirety.

((()))

"Dammit Federal, can't you go _three months_ without breaking everything you touch?"

Zolinsky blinked, as he woke up to a voice he'd rather not have heard for another T-year. Or ever, really. Scowling, he pulled himself into a seated position, and began detaching himself from the clone vat's rather invasive life-support systems.

"This was _not_ my fault, Smith," Zolinsky growled once he had the breathing tube out of his mouth.

"_Sure_ it wasn't," The short blond man in front of him said with a roll of his eyes, pacing back and forth in front of the vat agitatedly, "Just like it wasn't your fault when the _Flyer Deluxe_ suffered from a core implosion because you just _had_ to mess with the isolation fields on the first Zarkarium-powered FTL vessel fitted with a Singularity drive core in thirty years."

He whirled in place to glare at Zolinsky, who had stood up now, and was toweling the vat's suspension fluid off of his body.

"Spaceships aren't _toys_," Smith growled, "And they're _damn_ expensive, so _stop breaking them dammit!_"

Zolinsky studiously ignored the shorter man as he discarded the towel, and began donning the bathrobe that had been kept on its usual peg beside the cloning vat.

"And clones aren't cheap either!" Smith growled, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "I just hope to god none of the Morganites decide to sue us for 'traumatic experiences.' Do you have any idea how expensive lawsuits against Morgan lawyers are, even when we _win?_ Not to mention the basic cost of providing eighty-three clone replacements for the _Zoloto Gold_'s crew in the first place!"

"It wasn't my fault," Zolinsky said firmly, stepping out onto the heated floor of the cloning chambers, "A group of unidentified aliens showed up and-"

"_Aliens_," Smith snorted derisively, turning away from Zolinsky and striding towards the exit,

"_Suuure_. You come up with more pathetic excuses each time I have to have your overpriced ass rezzed. Save it for the Expenses Committee."

Zolinsky rolled _his_ eyes, and followed Smith out of the cloning chamber.

((()))

AN: _Madness_ I say, _Madness!_

For those of you who have actually _played_ Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri, while only the University and the Morganites have been seen thus, far, the Peacekeepers, Gaians, and Spartans, are still around and kicking. For those of you tracking my writing in general, sorry about the continued slower posting rate, and lack of updates for my primary projects. I'm getting work done on them, but it's _crawling_. Once writer's block issues are resolved, I should return to a weekly posting schedule.


	10. Mass EffectAlpha Centauri 2

AN: Again, this is posting at SB first; if you'd like to see more comments on the story, and a whole lot of economic debate, go read it at the SpaceBattles Creative Writing forum. You need to be a member to access the threads these days, but it's pretty much the best place I know of aside from to read fanfiction.

((()))

AN: Nothing I could find would tell me where Shanxi actually _is, _so I'm placing it in the Exodus Cluster. As to people's comments about the expansion factions, the basic idea of them will at least be mentioned, but none of them will be 'factions' properly.

((()))

Shanxi was at once both an expensive place to live, and an exceedingly luxurious one. Where the Morganites held significant influence, the two properties tended to appear, rather consistently. Part of the expense came from the fact that as a University controlled world, it had never been fully terraformed, and all the lovely elements that came with that; habitation domes, greenhouse agriculture, alien microorganisms, etc, etc.

It was also the University's sole cloning and resurrection hub in the Exodus Cluster thus far, and thus the only one within reasonable range of where the _Zoloto Gold_ had been destroyed. Quantum Entanglement communication being what it was, the sentience relays implanted in the neural tissue of the _Zoloto Gold's_ crew could have grounded them into any C&R Hub that was active, regardless of where, or even what, galaxy it was in, but standard operating procedure was to shunt them to the nearest facility.

It was because of this, that the citizens and guardians of Shanxi had eighty-three first-hand accounts of just how imminent the threat posed by the unknown fleet was, and preparations began immediately. There wasn't a great deal that could be done, really, as Shanxi only had a modest pool of nano-fabbers, a small defense force, and a great deal of transhipment and logistics facilities both on her capital's skyhook, and on the surface, for the many ships that passed through the system's Zero-point Wormhole Construction Device.

Naval support was immediately summoned, but as per their customary military doctrine, both Morganite and University military assets in the area were almost entirely defensive, surface-based units designed for war over territory. Not for fighting unknown vessels willing to open fire with no warning on civilian vessels, whose commanders would very possibly have no issue with bombarding an inhabited city from orbit.

Ymir Kolokolotsov, the Planetary Governor, requested requested that Shanxi's defenses be reinforced by units from other garrisons through the Matter Transmitter network, but due to rising tension with the Spartans on Planet, the request was denied until a more imminent need could be demonstrated. Instead, Shanxi was evacuated of all personnel not linked into the C&R network.

So, by the time the Turians arrived in orbit, the only defenses at hand were an (automated) armed merchantman, and what Shanxi's own nano-fabber had been able to produce...

((()))

"Damn," Garen Arturius said from behind his flagship's sensor officer, "Half of those hulls must be power generation and Kinetic Barriers."

"Their ships sure as hell are tough enough for it," Domin Kryk, the sensor officer, said with a nod, "Maybe their home system suffers from an excess of space debris?"

"Who knows?" Garen said with a shrug, before returning to his seat, "They seem to have shit-all for weapons, so it's not like it matters much."

The rest of the bridge crew, silently watching the expanding cloud of plasma that had been the world's only apparent defense, felt little inclination to disagree.

"Well," Garen said, turning to Chelik Victus, the communications officer, "Hail the planet, and get me their ranking officer so we can start negotiating their surrender."

"Aye sir," Chelik said, "It may be a while, there's a _lot_ of traffic down there."

((()))

"Professor," Marissa, Governor Kolokolotsov's Transcendii assistant said, "The aliens in orbit appear to be hailing us, seeking contact with our ranking officer."

"Oh?" Kolokolotsov said, spinning in his comfortable chair, behind his hand-carved oak desk, in his ridiculously oversized office.

As a full Professor, recently granted Tenure, Kolokolotsov was a veteran at surviving the travails of University middle-management, and as such, was a _very_ accomplished spinner.

"Have the Morgan Industries personnel completed their evacuations?" Kolokolotsov asked.

"Yes," Marissa said, "They even took their pets with them."

"Good," Kolokolotsov said, "I'd like you to initiate a full stress-test of the base's power-grid, up to full emergency rating on all power conduits. Not like we'll have a chance like this for maintenance cycles again anytime soon is it, hm?"

"No, Professor," Marissa said, with the air of the long-suffered aide, an affectation she'd perfected over the last three decades, "And the aliens?"

"I suppose you might as well put them through," Kolokolotsov said, "See what the blaggards want. Any luck at decoding their language so far?"

"I don't think I'll dignify that with a response, Governor," Marissa said with more than a hint of sarcasm, manifesting a digital avatar on his desk purely so that she could roll her eyes at him, "They're smart enough to isolate their communications hardware from the rest of their systems, but their security is like a sieve. You're on."

Kolokolotsov smiled at the Transcendii's response, then pulled his feet into his chair, allowing himself to spin purely on inertia as he did so. While the being on the other end of the 'call' would be restricted to watching Kolokolotsov spin, the Governor used his cybernetics to receive the visual directly on his 'HUD.'

"Hm," Kolokolotsov said, inspecting the creature visible on his 'screen,' "Bipedal, roughly avian or reptillian descent, psuedo-exoskeletal structure, but definite endoskeleton present, binocular vision, markings of some sort of social significance on facial structure."

((()))

Garen started at the creature's sudden words, confused both by its rotation, and startlingly Salarian-like mode of speech, not to mention that it had already apparently been translated to his own language. Then the creature started speaking again.

"Judging by the scale of your ships external and internal construction, your species is of similar overall proportion to our own, what most of my peers, as well as myself, held as the most likely. Tell me, do all of your species initiate first contact with acts of war, or is it just you?"

Garen ground his teeth slightly, before beginning to speak himself.

"I am Garen Arturius," He said, harshly, "Comman-"

"Your name and rank are irrelevant," The creature on his screen said, waving an appendage dismissively as its spin continued to slow, "That is the same group of vessels that attacked the _Zoloto Gold_ at the Zero-point Wormhole Construction Device, which makes you a war criminal. That is all the name you need."

The creature finally stopped spinning, and turned to face him, revealing a startlingly Asari-like face.

"So tell me, War Criminal," He said, leaning forward and placing what were clearly hands in front of his furry face, "What terms of surrender are you willing to accept?"

"Standard terms for a client race of the Turian Heirarchy," Garen said promptly, "Which-"

"No, no," The creature said, laughing briefly, "I mean the terms of _your_ surrender to the University, to stand trial for your crimes."

The bridge of Garen's flagship, rather abruptly became intensely quiet.

"You cannot be serious," Garen said flatly, the metallic tinge to his voice making it sound even more so to the creature on his screen, "We have destroyed two of your Cruisers, without receiving the least portion of damage, and this is a single Patrol squadron. What in the Spirits name do you think you could possible hold against us?"

"First off," The creature said, starting to spin in place again, "You destroyed two _civilian_ vessels, which were largely unarmed. Second, I fail to see why I would feel any desire to surrender to a race that clearly has no compunction about committing wholesale slaughter of races they have never had contact with before. Third, what makes you think our space assets are remotely comparable to our surface assets, as far as military might is concerned?"

((()))

"I know you like to bluff," Marissa whispered quietly into Kolokolotsov's virtual 'ear' via his implants, "But this is insane."

"Really?" Kolokolotsov asked silently through the same implant, "Tell me, how long is it until the Tachyon Field's fabrication is completed?"

"Five hours, six minutes, roughly," Marissa said.

"_Fascinating_," Kolokolotsov replied, "Care to wager as to whether or not I can stall them long enough for it to be completed?"

"If I win," Marissa said harshly, "The base will be destroyed. What do you plan to offer me under such circumstances?"

"I'll absolve you of all responsibility," Kolokolotsov said casually, though Marissa well knew that was _not_ a small consideration given how vicious the political infighting amongst the University's Academician-minor's could be.

"Fine," Marissa said, "And if you win?"

"You agree to a date with me," Kolokolotsov said, and Marissa could _feel_ the sharkish grin on his face, even if it did not reveal itself in the slightest on his physical face.

"Deal," Marissa said snappishly, "I suppose I'll go start writing my expose for the Morgan Newsies. They always pay well for nasty accusations of those fallen from grace."

"You do that," Kolokolotsov said, and his invisible grin _intensified_, "Keep your schedule clear for next Thursday."

Marissa manifested an avatar on Kolokolotsov's desk, just so that she could roll her eyes at him. Again.

((()))

Garen Arturius was suffering from a certain degree of brain-lock. Like all patrol commanders in the Turian Hierarchy, he was more flexibly-minded than most Turians, but he was quickly discovering that this really did not prepare him adequately for First Contact. He had never understood, fully, before now, why the Primarchs were so adamant about retaining the Hierarchy's alliance with the Salarians and the Asari, but right now, he would have greatly appreciated having an Asari diplomat on hand to try to make some _sense_ of this alien creature.

It hadn't _threatened_ him exactly, but it had behaved in a manner to suggest that it held moral supremacy, and that somehow, in and of itself, made its own victory assured. Then there was the suggestion that the planetary installation was much more well-armed than their spacecraft had been, although _that_ certainly did not add up to what their surface scans had revealed. Deciding he needed more information, he slammed his hand down on the 'mute/blind' control for the transmission for a moment, before turning toward's the Bridge's sensor station.

"Kryk," He said, "Are you detecting any new Eezo signatures powering up?"

"No sir," Kryk said, shaking his head, "In fact, after more time to look over the data, the amount of Eezo activity I'm picking up down there is _far_ too small for a colony of that size, but their direct _power_ generation and consumption is positively ridiculous."

"Any idea what it's actually being _used_ for?" Arturius asked.

"Not really," Kryk said, "The power use is fairly distributed, and has been fluctuating fairly steadily throughout the installation, though there are a few loci that I'd suspect were the site of barrier generators, or weapons emplacements, if there was any Eezo use to go with the power consumption."

"What grade of weapons emplacement?" Arturius asked.

"Well," Kryk said, hesitating for a moment, "If there _were_ Eezo signatures present, and their tech was on par with say, the Batarians, or somewhere between ours and theirs, I'd expect something with that much power at its disposal to be able to take on a Cruiser detachment with a reasonable chance of success."

Arturius expression hardened, something which was extremely difficult to distinguish for any sentient being _not_ accustomed to reading the expressions of a species that had metal plates naturally growing out of their face. Garen's patrol detachment was comprised of eight frigates; granted, they were pure combat vessels, with none of the extraneous survey or scientific fittings Asari and Salarians liked to outfit their ships with, but that kind of firepower was _not_ something Garen wanted to get blindsided by. Considering the base's power output, and that its use was shifting, it was entirely possible that their commanding officer, whoever he was, and whether that was even the person Garen had been speaking with, was simply trying to conceal his weapon emplacements until such time as the shooting started.

There was nothing for it, but to try and coax more information out of the creature on the other end of the hail, and give Kryk more time to refine his scan data.

Garen turned back to the display attached to his command chair, and deactivated the mute/blind button.

"-And what is it with you people and the Zero-point Wormhole Construction Devices anyways?" The furred creature, Garen was now almost _certain_ it was a mammal, and probably masculine, had apparently kept talking, "Do you think you have some sort of personal right to-"

And he was [I]_spinning_[/I] again. Garen settled himself in for a headache-inducing delaying action.

((())))

Marissa knew she had lost the bet, when Kolokolotsov was able to drag his conversation with the 'Turian' around to politics. It wasn't a difficult leap from the precedents of interstellar, or 'council' law, that the Turian had apparently used to justify his attack on the _Zoloto Gold_, and mankind at large, but Marissa knew it would be her doom. Kolokolotsov's first field of study was Xenology, and while he was hardly a revolutionary thinker in the field, it had combined with his high effectiveness as an administrator to earn him his posting out on the frontier of explored space.

His second field of study, Psychology, had been entirely appropriate to people-management; Marissa had watched, somewhat dumbfounded, as he deftly discerned key portions of the alien's culture and psychology, deliberately obfusticated and stonewalled the creature into nearly instigating a stroke (which by now Marissa was quite confident was possible with their physiology). Kolokolotsov also tricked the Turian into revealing the existence of the Asari, Salarians, Krogan, and Volus, as well as their general roles, strengths and weaknesses, in galactic society, and that there were, at a minimum, three _hundred_ and fourteen other Zero-point Wormhole Construction Devices strewn throughout the galaxy.

Marissa was also fairly certain that Kolokolotsov's abuse of the hydraulics built in his chair, using them to rock back and forth, bounce up and down, and flex side to side, combined with his spinning, had confused the hell out of the Turian, and if the creature was at all experienced at dealing with other races, scrambling to discern the significance of such things. She was, at this point, frankly surprised that her boss had not activated the chair's vibrating massage function, just to further mess with the Turian.

His... _unique_ method for buying time, also had mixed benefits for her continuing efforts to secure support from the rest of the University; on the one hand, more time to redistribute forces was now available, on the other, if these aliens could simply be _talked_ to a standstill...

Marissa sometimes deeply hated the Machiavellian intercenine politics of the University's sub-Academicians, Deans and Provosts.

Then Academician Zakharov himself returned from his Council meeting, and everything changed.

((()))

"This meeting will come to order," Natalya, the Academician's personal assistant, declared as she entered the Council Chambers of the Provosts.

The chamber immediately became deathly silent as the Academician followed his assistant into the chamber; he rarely had her precede his entrance with that declaration, and when he did, he _always_ meant business.

"While I returned from the Council meeting," Zakharov said, his voice _still _carrying a light Russian accent after more than three hundred years, "I was briefed on the situation on Shanxi."

He stopped for a moment to scowl at the table, before continuing.

"As well as the fact that not only have no reinforcements been sent to our most distant frontier world, but also the fact that no _research teams_ have been sent."

Several of the Vice-Provosts and senior Deans at the table paled at Zakharov's words.

"This dereliction of duty, is _inexcusable,_" Zakharov growled, sweeping the table with a harsh gaze, "Fortunately for all of you, I have been able to, _again_, preserve the Univerity from your incompetence."

With that, he seated himself at the head of the council table, and gestured for Natalya to speak.

"You are all, save those of you holding purely research positions," The deceptively young-looking Talent said, "Aware that the latest Council of Faction Leaders was primary dealing with the tensions between the Spartans and the other factions, specifically regarding their threats of war if they are not given access to territories off of Chiron."

Most of the council members nodded.

"In the interest of resolving the current crisis," Natalya said, "The Academician has agreed to cede half of Shanxi, including both land and sea territory, to the Spartans, in exchange for their services in dealing with the Turians and associated races in any and all military conflicts."

Silence continued to reign over the Council of Provosts, and Zakharov leaned back in his chair, broad smirk forming on his face. It was no secret that Kolokolotsov was one of Zakharov's favorites over the last half-century, and they had been fools to snub him.

((()))

"Power spike!" Kryk shouted urgently, distracting Garen from his and the still-unidentified creature's discourse on the merits and failings of how the Heirarchy treated its client races.

"Weapons fire?" Garen demanded, not even bothering to blind his still-active comm line.

"Negative," Kryk said, now clearly confused, "No signs of a Kinetic barrier either."

"What the hell are-" Garen turned back to his comm screen, to discover that the connection had been cut.

"Whatever they were buying time for," Garen spat, "It's happened. Tell the Marines to prepare for force reconnaissance," He turned to his communications officer, "How long until Admiral Khoryk's fleet arrives?"

"Seventeen hours, sir," Chelik said promptly.

"Very good," Garen growled, staring at the planet-view on the bridge's main viewscreen, "We'll teach these vermin not to spit in the face of the Heirarchy's authority."

((()))

Unfortunately for Garen's forces, and his reputation as a competent commander, Elite Spartan formations were flooding into Shanxi's capital, and only, city, through its Matter Transmission Hub. Kolokolotsov had successfully stalled Garen for just under seven hours, and managed the whole thing without giving up so much as the name of his species, or himself.

Marissa was sulking; Kolokolotsov was celebrating his victory with his bubble-pipe.

((()))

AN: Beware of mood shift from previous chapters. Actual killing occurs in this chapter, and that's always ugly business. Also, for those of you more familiar with the SMAC weapon tech, I'm paying particular attention to the affect that everything other than 'Hand Weapons' appears as a heavy weapon that isn't carried, y'know, by hand, as well as the fact that Impact Rifles are still mentioned as being in use when Hovertanks have also been implemented. To whit, the heavy weapons an infantry unit uses may be a Quantum Laser, but they're still going to be packing something else for their riflemen.

((()))

"SPARTANS!" Brigadier Adrian Commersly barked as he entered the warehouse where the 21st Heavy Infantry had assembled, "STATUS!"

"READY FOR WAR!" Every man and woman in his unit shouted back as one, standing to attention in their battle armor.

Ascending the small podium in front of his regiment, Adrian turned to survey his command critically. Amongst any of the other Factions, the 21st would have qualified as an Elite unit; men and women trained and seasoned to combat effectiveness and mobility beyond what most any infantry regiment was capable of. Every man and woman in the unit was equipped with Neutronium Armor, a Personal Cloaking Device (PCD), and a self-sustaining Quantum Reactor that, barring a direct hit from heavy weapons, would need neither service nor repair for half a century of operation. Each five-man fire-team consisted of two riflemen equipped with thirteenth-generation Zakharium-augmented Impact Rifles, an E-War specialist to deal with Probe Teams, and two heavies carrying either a Chaos Gun for heavy anti-infantry use, or a single Quantum Laser between the two of them for anti-armor use.

For the Spartan Confederation, this was merely a standard infantry combat formation. Certainly, the University could field better equippeed divisions, and often did, but only the units defending their core Bases, and the Academician's Guard, could hope to match the skill and tactical mobility possessed by standard Spartan formations.

After what had happened the last time the Peacekeepers had tried to 'disarm' the Spartan Confederation, it wasn't worth even _bothering_ to compare with _their_ military, in Adrian's informed opinion.

"Spartans," Adrian declared, powerful voice not requiring a sound system to reach all of his men, "Once again, our way of life has proven not only prudent, but _necessary_.

His tone of voice and demeanor changed from declarative, to deadly serious, and a mental command sent the digital brief of the unit's mission orders on Shanxi to the MMI of every member of his Regiment, before he continued speaking.

"You may have heard rumors that the University and the Morganites have made contact with a sentient alien race," He said gravely, "These rumors are true. The 'Turians' are a militaristic race, with technology at least comparable, if not superior to, that of the University. Unsurprisingly, they have destroyed every University unit they have come into contact with thus far, though in all fairness to the eggheads, neither of them were _military_ units."

Adrian paused for a moment, allowing his subordinates to filter through at least some of the files he had forwarded them in the brief, before continuing.

"I know you are all also aware of the issues the Confederation has been facing due to lack of adequate territory. Well, the Colonel and the Academician have come to an agreement, and the terms are very simple."

Commersly took a deep breath, the muscles in his jaw flexing in an uncharacteristic display of emotion on the part of the highly-disciplined man, his eyes beginning to blaze with an inner fire.

"If we hold this world until such time as University naval assets arrive," Adrian said fiercely, "Fully half of the planet will be ceded to our control."

He did not need to mention to his men, that this would better than triple the Spartan's total territorial holdings, to a man, they already knew this.

"We are facing an enemy of unknown psychology, doctrine, tactics, logistical support," Adrian continued, "What little we know of them, is that they make extensive use of Zakharium-based technology in their weapons technology, which the Academician himself has admitted is more advanced than anything the University has produced along such lines. Our strategic and tactical situation is literally as poor as it can be, we face a numerically superior foe, about which we have next to no intelligence, on ground we are not familiar with."

He stopped for a moment, and his nostrils flared, his eyes blazing, before he continued.

"With what we fight for!" He bellowed, "Is there _any_ chance that we will surrender this world before _death_ claims us all?"

"SIR NO SIR!" His Regiment declared as one, and a predator's smile curved across Adrian's face.

((()))

The Turian Heirarchy was as much a military as it was a society. Military service was mandatory, and every Turian carried a rank within their society, which directly translated to military authority. Both in space and on land, they fought with discipline, and extremely well-developed strategies and tactics. The Turian military was well-experienced in dealing with races that were belligerent at first contact, customarily via military conquest and turning them into client races. As far as Commodore Arturius and Admiral Trenatine, the commanding officer of the Cruiser detachment that arrived to support Arturius' forces, were concerned violating Council Law regarding unopened relays classified their as-yet unnamed opponents as belligerent.

From the moment that the alien colony cut off contact, the Arturius began landing infantry and light armor assets around the city, keeping to a distance he believed would protect them from anti-air fire, which proved to be true, to at least some degree. From there, they simply enforced a siege, while waiting for Trenatine's Cruiser detachment to arrive, which brought with it a proper planetary assault force, including artillery, heavy armor, and mobile hospitals and vehicle bays.

During this waiting period, they sent a number of drones on overflights of the alien city, mapping its surface layout. The Turians were somewhat surprised that no AA fire was employed against the drones, but took it as a sign that their opponents lacked either the ability to effectively detect and track the drones, or the weapons to try and take them down. Either way, what it said of their relative capabilities pleased the Turians, even if they'd failed to detect the presence of so much as a single alien within the city.

The day after the Cruiser detachment arrived, the attack began.

((()))

The two days that the Turians spent waiting for reinforcements, then setting up their own logistics centers outside of Shanxi Prime, also gave the Spartans time to move two more regiments through the Base's Psi Gate, supporting the 21st Heavy Infantry with the 18th Heavy Infantry, and the 3rd Light Air. Unlike Heavy Air units, which were designed for Strategic deployment, Spartan Light Air units were formed of one-man Gravships around the size of a groundcar designed to serve as close-air support, essentially functioning as extremely high maneuverability helicopter gunships.

None of the infantry moved outside without their PCD's active, and the Gravships did not move outside of the base's internal passages. Due to a mixture of University and Morganite civil design philosophy, Shanxi Prime was laid out in three distinct rings; the innermost housing the administrative and research facilities, with housing for ranking faculty, the middle ring containing the commercial district, general residential, and the Recreation Commons, and the outer ring containing warehouses and industrial facilities. The only strategic assets within the base that were really of note, were the Psi Gate, which resided underneath the core district, and the Nanofab facilities in the Eastern part of the outer ring.

Between material and energy limitations, the nanofabber wasn't really capable of producing any of the University's more advanced hardware in enough quantity to substantially refit any of the Spartan units now defending Shanxi Prime, so Professor Kolokolotsov had inquired of Brigadier Commersly just what the General would like for him to produce, the answer he received was very simple:

Decoys.

((()))

"Attack."

The order was simple, direct, and came from Admiral Trenatine himself; with a single nod Colonel Lucius, ranking Turian infantry officer, set the assault in motion. Roughly half of his forces were dug in in the hills around the city to maintain containment, and now he was committing the other half to an assault on the city's eastern flank, specifically aiming to take control of one of the high power-consumption facilities. He, and the rest of the Turian forces in-system for that matter, weren't really sure what the facility _did_, but it was as good a target as any, and the aliens obviously thought it did _something_ worthwhile, judging by the amount of power they were pumping into it.

Four heavy tanks, tracked vehicles with Kinetic Barriers strong enough to survive a light orbital bombardment and enough heavy repeating weaponry to tear through those same barriers in less than a minute, took point, rumbling over the hills surrounding the alien city, and opening up with their primary armaments. IFV's and APC's rolled out behind them, smaller weapons systems ready to target any enemy units flushed out from behind destroyed cover by the heavy tanks fire.

The entire assault almost ground to an assault before it even began, as a barrier around the entire city absorbed the mass effect rounds, made visible only by virtue of the rounds disintegrating against its surface.

"I thought you said there were no Eezo signatures large enough to support a city-wide shield!" Lucius barked, turning to glare at his Intelligence officer.

"There _isn't_ sir," The male protested, "Whatever that barrier is, it's _not_ Mass Effect based."

The Colonel snarled, and turned back to the mobile HQ's primary tactical plot and the visual feeds from his men arrayed around it.

"All Infantry are to withdraw behind the hills immediately," He barked, "Armor Unit Four is to accompany them. Armor Unit One will advance to the barrier, while two and three cease advance and provide fire support as necessary."

The assorted armored vehicles immediately began maneuvering to follow his commands, and Lucius desperately hoped that the barrier prevented the aliens from firing _out_, as well as preventing him from firing _in._

((()))

"Their commander's cagey," Adrian said calmly, "Something worth respecting, but it'll make our jobs more difficult."

"If it was going to be easy," Brigadier Griselda Yaga, the 18th's CO, said, "They wouldn't have come begging for us to save their asses."

"True enough," Adrian said, before glancing at one of the staff officers in their current HQ, "What's the energy output on those guns?"

"It's pretty anemic, sir," The officer said, "Enough to make paste of our infantry armor, but I doubt a glancing hit would take down one of our Gravships, much less an armored Speeder or Hovertank. A direct hit would take a Gravship, but judging by the size comparison, I doubt any of their infantry weapons stand a chance against our Neutronium armor. Their lighter vehicles, could go either way."

"Better than I hoped for," Adrian said, nodding, "Now let's see how they respond to the drones."

((()))

Lucius did not gain the opportunity to discover whether or not his foes could fire through their own protective shield, as he met no opposing force before Armor Unit One reached, and then crossed, the barrier. Once it passed between the first of two large outbuildings, however, a swarm of bipedal automatons boiled out of the two structures, pouring weapons fire into the heavy tank.

Considering that there were more than two dozen of the security drones, their performance was not very impressive, foolishly moving into the open rather than firing from cover, and barely managing to drain the tank's barriers by a single percent, before the tank's gun crews efficiently cut the drones to shreds. They hadn't even been equipped with Kinetic Barriers.

Regaining some of the confidence he had lost at the revelation of the none Eezo-based defensive screen, Lucius ordered the advance to begin anew, though this time he apportioned a smaller percentage of his force to make the attack, sending something closer to a third, than a half, of his forces in.

((()))

"Well," Adrian said, "That was interesting."

"Good fire discipline," Griselda admitted grudingly, "I could make some use of men like that."

"So could I," Adrian said, "But more importantly, they didn't fire on the drone with the PCD."

"I noticed too," Brigadier Steven Hammer, CO of the 3rd Light Air, said grimly, "I do believe it is time for a counter-attack."

"I quite agree," Adrian said, "Tell your men to be careful though, our intelligence is still incomplete, and the Impact Rifles were damn ineffective against their shields."

"Sir," Hammer said, nodding.

((()))

All across Shanxi Prime, doors opened. Some were garage doors, some were gym doors, some were just large doors for houses. From each and everyone of these doors, as best as anyone could tell, nothing issued forth. After this nothing passed through the doorways, they remained open, having no particular need to close.

Nothing in particular then proceeded to move over the city, out of the city, and cross the Turian lines, to move into strike positions over the Turian logistics and command centers. University E-war technology was far and above beyond what the Turians were implementing, and their communications networks were completely compromised by then, meaning the Spartan 3rd Light Air, knew the location of _every _Turian unit on planet.

As a matter of efficiency, while on ground-assault missions, Spartan aircraft equipped with Cloaking Devices were configured so that the same trigger, toggle, switch, or button that fired the aircraft's weapons, also served to deactivate the cloaking device. There was literally _no_ perceptible delay between the Spartan Gravships appearing over the Turian forces, and opening fire.

Quantum Lasers, so named for the weapon's manipulation of quantum principles to augment damage output, were not susceptible to the protective effects of Kinetic Barriers. All Citadel races, including Turians, depended heavily upon their Kinetic Barriers for protection from heavy weaponry, and the armor alone was far from sufficient, effectively serving only to augment the damage dealt by the Quantum Lasers, as the large slabs of metal shattered into hellish storms of shrapnel, butchering the Turians they were meant to protect.

Every targetted Turian position was utterly obliterated, including the primary force concentration to the Base's east, the supply depots, vehicle bay, evacuation craft, and the command center. With the entire command staff killed in less than a second, the twenty-seven seconds it took the 3rd Light Air to cloak, reposition, then decloak and open fire again, was not enough time for the Turians to form a coherent response to the attack.

By the time the unexpectedly effective aerial assault was completed, the only remaining intact Turian position, was the portable hospital.

That was when Kolokolotsov hailed the Turian fleet.

((()))

"You want me to surrender," Admiral Trenatine said flatly, "After you just _butchered_ _six regiments-_"

"No," Kolokolotsov said harshly as his chair gradually waved him back and forth on Trenatine's viewscreen, the first genuine emotional response Trenatine thought any Turian had managed to get out of the creature, "We did not _butcher_ anyone. We destroyed a group of pirates attacking sovereign territory unprovoked. _You_ Turians and your minions butchered the crew of the _Zoloto Gold_ at first contact, and the _Daily Dollar_ in orbit when you arrived here. We have restrained ourselves from retaliating until such time as you made it clear you would not be dissuaded from continuing on your murderous rampage."

Kolokolotsov paused to take a sip of tea, completely ignoring that most of the tea was slopping out of his cup onto his bathrobe as his chair rocked from side to side; as a matter of fact, he did not even like tea, he was a coffee drinker, but it served its purpose. Mostly, Allowing the Turian to get started again, so that Kolokolotsov could cut him off again if he felt it was necessary.

"That's _varren shit_," The Turian growled, "Your vessel at the Mass Relay was in direct defiance of Council Law-"

"This is not Council Space," Kolokolotsov cut the Turian off again, activating his chair's 'spin' function, "Nor have we ever encountered a copy of 'Council' decrees, or territorial markers. Your law holds no sway here, and as it is apparent you have no intention of surrendering, there is no purpose in speaking further at this time."

With that, he ended the call, then shut his chair off before it could team up with the tea to make him nauseous.

((()))

AN: For those of you who are particular fans of me as an author, please consider having a look at my new blog, now referenced on my Author Page. I'm moving more involved thoughts on the various fandoms there, as well as pontifications upon the schools of thought that underpin all fiction writing, and rather than run to long AN's, like I sometimes did with Brutal Harry, I plan to refer to things I post there in AN's, save for at the end of a story.


	11. Mass EffectAlpha Centauri 3

AN: This is the last chapter of this for a while now, maybe ever. I'm going to try to push the next chapters of Cameron's Legacy and War in Tokyo through to completion this week; they've been crawling along, but only crawling.

((()))

"This is humiliating," Adrien Victus said, and none of the other Primarchs, assembled via QE teleconference, cared to contradict him.

Admiral Tranatine, by far the junior-ranking Turian in the conference, didn't feel much like speaking either.

"What happened?" Primarch Aurolius demanded, "How did they get so close without being detected?"

"Unfortunately, sir," Tranatine said, admirably concealing his discomfort, "Immediately preceeding the attacks, the aliens initiated a massive jamming field, cutting off all communications links with our surface forces. All we have, are visual feeds of the strikes taking place."

"And what did they reveal?" Aurolius pressed.

"It appears that the aliens have taken tactical cloaking technology," Tranatine said, "And advanced it far beyond what even the Salarians or Asari are capable of. As best as we can tell, they used a large number of laser-armed pocket gunships equipped with these cloaking devices to strike with essentially no warning. They took out the command center and the most senior Regimental commanders in the first strike, then re-cloaked, repositioned, and struck again before any of the other Regiments were able to discern what happened. The only position they left untouched was the field hospital."

"It is fortunate, it would seem," Adrien Victus said, "That our new enemies show some sign of mercy. It is time to call in the Asari to broker peace."

"Peace?" Aurolius demanded, "After they slaughtered six regiments?"

"After they have proven that they have the ability to crush our forces, if they are so inclined," Victus growled.

"On the ground," Aurolius said, "Certainly. But we have already proven that we are far superior in space."

"From what we have _seen_," Victus snarled, "Are you privy to intelligence reports I am unaware of, showing that these aliens are _not_ capable of employing the same cloaking technology on their space-borne vessels? Need I remind you that it is _entirely possible_, that Kolokolsot was telling the _truth_ when he claimed our patrol fleet only engaged non-military vessels?"

"It is possible," Aurolius grudgingly admitted, "But it is also possible they do _not_ have such capabilities, and if they do, why have they not employed them before?"

"I do not know," Victus said, "But I do not wish to waste more lives finding out."

"And I see no reason to run to the Asari with our tails tucked between our legs when we have not even attempted an orbital bombardment thus far!"

Victus resisted the urge to grind his mandibles at that, as the other Primarchs shifted subtly in their seats. No Turian liked losing, and admitting defeat with out even _attempting_ the most powerful aspect of standard doctrine would be _humiliating_.

The arguments may not have ended, but Victus knew he had already lost.

((()))

On the surface of Shanxi, the Turians who had survived the Spartan's strike were experiencing the first face-to-face Turian-Human contact, or face-to-helmet, anyways. The 21st Spartan Heavy Infantry had sent out S&R teams to find survivors, and escort, or sometimes carry them, to the Turian field hospital. While some of the surviving Turians were _displeased_ with the armored figures herding and carrying them, most recognized, by the time they reached the still-standing hospital, if not sooner, that their new captors were treating them far better than they had any need to. Though they _did_ confiscate all of the Turian's weapons.

Throughout the entirety of the rescue operation, none of the aliens removed their masks, or even spoke to the Turians, using gestures and holographic maps to give commands and directions. And once the aliens had finished moving all of the Turians to the field hospital, all of them, every last one, disappeared before their vary eyes, fading from sight, hearing, and sensors.

It was then that the Turian name for the aliens was coined:

'Shades.'

((()))

"Kolokolotsov," Marissa said, somewhat crankily, "It looks like they're finally moving into position for orbital bombardment."

"Well," The Base Commander said with what he liked to think of as a roguish grin, and Marissa liked to think of as an ugly smirk, "I guess we'll see just how well a gen nine Tachyon field holds out, won't we?"

"You could be a little bit less blasé about this," Marissa grumped, "This _is_ my body they're going to be bombing."

"Yes," Kolokolotsov said, an uncommonly serious tone entering his voice, "I quite understand. I am, after all, here as well. I have skin in the game, so to speak."

((()))

Hundreds of kilometers above Shanxi Prime, three frigates entered optimal firing position, and rotated to direct their spinal guns down towards the University base. Two held themselves in reserve for the first barrage, waiting to test the effect of their weapons on a smaller scale.

The first frigate's paired spinal mass effect cannons projected two 1.2 kilogram masses down to the surface of Shanxi at C-fractional velocities, sonic booms crackling through the atmosphere, and coming to an abrupt, absolute halt against Shanxi Prime's Tachyon Field.

The shielding system didn't even flicker.

The other frigates joined in the next barrage, the three vessels unleashing enough force between them to level a small city.

It did not noticeably accomplish any more than the first barrage did.

Then the Turians began moving their Cruisers up...

((()))

"Persistent, aren't they?" Kolokolotsov opined six hours later, as he watched the Tachyon Field's power reserves slowly fade, "You'd almost think they didn't like us or something."

"Oh my!" Marissa said caustically, "Whatever gave you _that_ idea? Was it the fleet in orbit? The ground assault team? The orbital bombardment? Or was it that they destroyed that freighter before it could offload your favorite coffee blend?"

"Now now," Kolokolotsov said chidingly, "I'll have you know it was the _Ice Cream _that I was looking forward to, not the coffee."

"You're impossible," Marissa grouched, a touch sulkily.

"I very much hope that our enemies come to that conclusion," Kolokolotsov said, his voice suddenly terribly grave, "How do things look over at their field hospital?"

"One moment," Marissa said, "I will consult with the Spartans."

Kolokolotsov waited for a moment.

"The Turians appear to be stable enough for transport," Marissa said.

"Alright then," Kolokolotsov said, "Bring them in."

((()))

"Sir," Trenatine's adjutant said as he forwarded a visual feed to the Admiral's command chair, "You'd better have a look at this."

Trenatine had a look.

"Get me Primarch Victus," He growled.

((()))

Victus snarled after Tranatine finished his report, then cut the connection.

"Get me the Council," He barked.

((()))

Sparatus was not accustomed to being glared at by his Asari counterpart on the council. He also was not accustomed to being made _nervous_ by someone glaring at him.

"What," Matriarch Tevos asked harshly, "Were your fleet commanders _thinking?_"

"I would guess," Sparatus growled, "That they were thinking about enforcing _Council Law_. You know, the one that was passed because of the Rachni Wars?"

"Ah," Tevos said, her tone as flat as her gaze, before turning to Toriya, their Salarian counterpart, "Toriya, my good fellow, could you remind me of what the _purpose_ of the edict regarding new relays was?"

"To prevent a repeat of the Rachni wars," The Salarian said bluntly.

"Hm," Tevos said, bringing a hand up to her chin as her voice and face filled with faux thoughtfulness, "Now, _obviously_ we can't be entirely certain, but it would seem to _me_," She glared at Sparatus for a moment before continuing, "That initiating first contact _with heavy weapons fire_, then following it up with a _planetary invasion_ and _orbital bombardment_ would _not_ be the best way to repeat such a first contact, would it?"

Sparatus winced.

"Fine, dammit," The Asari councilor growled, "We'll go and try to fix this damn catastrophe you numbskulls have dragged us into. Let me make something clear though, there will be _hell_ to pay for this."

((()))

Two weeks later.

((()))

"MARISSA!" Kolokolotsov shouted as he leapt from his seat, clear over his desk, "BRING THE CHAIR OF POWER!"

((()))

Matriarch Tevos had reviewed every second of footage from the creature's conversation with the Turians, a minimum of three times. What little had been visible from the limited visual feed they had received had revealed a remarkably Asari-like physiology; seeing the creature in person now, on the surface of Shanxi, revealed that aside from possessing fur and a lack of mammary glands, their species was practically identical.

Considering how much time she spent on her feet while dealing with Council matters though, she rather envied the creature's chair.

"I am Tevos," She introduced herself, "Of the Asari Republics. Our race generally handles diplomatic affairs for the Council, and I am currently the seniormost representative thereof."

The creature sitting across the, in this case literal, negotiating table from her, gazed dispassionately at her for some time while its seat moved slowly in a circle along a vertical plane.

"You are here then, to negotiate," It finally said, "What do you desire from these negotiations?"

Tevos thought carefully before responding. _Very_ carefully.

"Primarily," She said, "To redress the crimes the Turians have wrought in their excessive zeal regarding certain Council decrees, and negotiate terms of peace."

"Peace," The creature said, cocking its head to the side as it continued gazing at her, its chair beginning to spin with the creature's head as the pivot-point, "But not surrender. Why should we accept such terms?"

"To prevent further death," Tevos said, leaning back in her own, far less luxurious seat, so that she could more easily prevent herself from being physically disoriented by the creature's strange gyrations, "And I can assure you, the Turians _will_ pay restitution for their crimes, even if it is not under terms of surrender."

"Fair enough," The creature said, and its chair abruptly ceased moving, twenty-three degrees off from being entirely upside down, then began to rotate on a plane parallel to the ground, "The terms are as follows: We will remand all surviving Turians to your care, and in return, as well as restitution, the Turians will surrender every vessel of the two fleets that assaulted Shanxi to our possession, fully intact and with all hardware and equipment that is not personal property of the crew included. If these terms are accepted, peace and trade negotiations may begin."

Tevos eyes widened at the terms; while the frigate squadron and cruiser detachment that had assaulted Shanxi represented only a small portion of the Turian fleet overall, it was still a _lot_ of firepower in absolute terms. On the other hand...

"The surrender of these vessels is all you will require," She asked, "No monetary restitution or repatriation of officers to stand trial for their actions?"

"That is correct," The creature said, its rotation stopping, as it began to bob up and down, "Will these terms be accepted?"

Tevos stilled herself for a moment, and bent her mind to a single consideration; not whether or not she _should_ accept the terms, but whether or not she _could_. In essence, could she bully the Turians into accepting the surrender of so many of their ships? Considering that she could hold having potentially instigated the next Rachni war over their heads, and they would lose only _hardware_, not _people_, she damn well would make them eat it, or she would die trying.

"The terms will be accepted," Tevos declared firmly, meeting the creature's gaze as best she could as it bobbed up and down, while upside down, more than a meter above the ground.

"Very good," The creature said, and its chair, _mercifully_, lowered and rotated itself down to simply sit across from her.

Then it began to vibrate.

"N-now th-that that i-issue is d-disp-spensed w-with," The creature said, "I-it is t-time to ad-dress a few d-details."

Tevos nodded, concealing her confusion at the creature's change of behavior with the skill of a diplomat holding centuries of experience.

"O-our race r-refers t-to ourselves as H-humans," He said, "M-my nam-me is Kolokolotsov, a-and I-I am-m male."

Tevos nodded again, wishing his name had not been distorted by his vibration-induced stutter.

"Th-the M-m-m-_morganites_," The chair abruptly stopped vibrating, and began slowly circling on a horizontal plane, without turning its occupant away from her, "Will be happy to engage in trade with your society's merchant caste, but we will not be joining the Citadel races, nor opening our borders, aside from a few specific trade ports."

"Why?" Tevos asked, somewhat wary that she may have just bought _nothing_ with her large concession on behalf of the Turians.

"Humanity does not conform to a number of laws the Citadel enforces," Kolokolotsov said, "For example, Digital Sentiences have been legal citizens within our society for a century now, and we have developed genetic technology far beyond that permitted by Citadel decree."

Tevos was _very_ glad she had chosen to come to this meeting alone, and leave her Turian counterpart in orbit. It was hard enough for _her_ to avoid violent reaction to the male's words, she knew Sparatus would have exploded.

"We are willing, however," Kolokolotsov continued, "To sign a formal peace treaty, and once we have further information on entities such as the 'Rachni' and the 'Geth,' we may be willing to pledge support should the Citadel races face assault from such foes once more. However, considering the ingrained bigotry against certain forms of life, we feel it would result only in violence for our borders to be fully open at this time. Some time of _acclimation_ would be appropriate first."

"This sounds amenable," Tevos said cautiously, "I will have to consult with the other Councilors before such an agreement is formalized, but I foresee no troubles with such."

"Very good," Kolokolotsov said, nodding, then retrieved an odd object from within his garments, a curved stem leading into an upturned bowl shape, "Perhaps we may then partake of a custom of humanity since millenia past, the Peace Pipe."

So saying, he stuck the stem into his mouth, then exhaled through it, causing bubbles to spew forth from the upturned bowl. Afterward exhaling, and producing more streams of bubbles, several times, he withdrew it from his mouth, then wiped it with a cloth that Tevos _hoped_ was treated to sterilize microorganisms, then offered it to her.

Carefully accepting the 'Peace Pipe,' she stuck it in her mouth, savored the odd taste of it for a moment, then exhaled, producing her own plume of bubbles to join the dissipating cloud already around them. She found the activity oddly cathartic.

And judging by the broad grin on Kolokolotsov's face, a near _perfectly_ Asari-like expression, so did he.

((()))

AN: Codex is from the perspective of the Council races, Datalinks is from the perspective of the humans.

((()))

Codex: Humans.

Humans are, without a doubt, the most viscerally alien race that the Citadel has encountered thus far. While bearing generally similar traits to most Citadel races; four limbs, two genders, animal rather than plant based physiology, sexual reproduction, and in fact are sometimes described as 'Asari with fur and two genders' as far as appearance is concerned, their society and culture is drastically divergent.

As best as has been determined, human society is rigidly separated by caste, five castes currently known to exist, though anecdotal evidence to now-extinct castes exists, and there is some inference that new castes may be emerging. The castes known to exist, and their general roles, are as follows:

University: The caste of knowledge, and technology, occupied primarily with scientific advancement and exploration of the universe.

The Morgans: The caste of merchants, concerned primarily with trade and the production of entertainment media.

The Piece-Keepers: The caste of Diplomats and possibly law enforcement. They appear to worship a deity known as 'Yoo-En', whose holy text is known as 'Char-Ter.' It appears that the Council edict against AI's somehow is offensive to this deity.

The Gay-yans: The agricultural and healer caste, this caste seems to concern itself almost exclusively with the cultivation and protection of life, though there is anecdotal evidence they may also serve as philosophers.

The military caste: No formal name is known for certain, though the Turians coined the term 'Shades' for them after the Relay 314 Disaster, and other castes have been heard referring to them as 'Survivalists,' 'Militants,' and 'Spartans,' though as members of this caste have never been witnessed by Citadel races outside of their battle armor, nor heard speaking, it is not known how they refer to themselves.

It must be heavily stressed that while humans have yet to prove dangerous when _not_ provoked, their society freely admits engaging in heavy genetic and cybernetic modification of their own members, as well as essentially uninhibited AI development, and as such they are potentially extremely dangerous.

What little contact their _has_ been since the establishment of the Relay 314 Trade Station, has primarily been with representatives of the Piece-Keepers, and the Morgans, and members of both caste have proven to be friendly, outgoing, and curious, though the Morgans have been known to employ cut-throat business tactics. For those interested in meeting humans, passage is available to the Relay 314 Trade Station from the Citadel, and the Morgans have begun constructing vacation resorts in new modules on the Station for just such interested parties. Please exercise caution while present though, and under no circumstances initiate hostilities, as the Council has ceded legal jurisdiction to the Humans regarding crimes on the station, and as such, you will be outside of the council's protection.

((()))

The Citadel Races.

(This article has multiple issues. Please help improve it.)

(This article may not be written from a neutral point of view.)

(This article may contain original research.)

(This article needs additional citations for verification.)

Mankind has met intelligent life amongst the stars, and this intelligent life possesses two salient qualities, [I]_gullibility[/I]_, and [I]_stupidity_.[/I]

First and foremost as a recognition of these qualities, is the Citadel Races complacency regarding the ZWCD network, and willingness to rely wholly upon technology they do not understand or control as the lynchpin of their civilization. The strategic and tactical weaknesses of such a thing are as glaringly obvious as they are comprehensive. The failure as scholars and scientists to study, reverse-engineer, and master such technology is equally shameful.

Then there's the matter of their tech base, [I]_as a whole_.[/I] Humanity, on Planet _alone_ has developed more over the last three hundred years, than the [I]_near-trillion[/I]_ sentients under Council rule have over the last [I]_two millenia_.[/I] And not by a small margin, either, We've gone from Fission to Quantum, as the saying goes, and the Eggheads have gone the next step to Singularity. You could, by comparison, say the Council races have gone from Fusion to Fusion 2.0 over those two millenia, and they don't look to be going any further any time soon.

Then there's their [I]_military[/I]_ incompetence. What a bunch of (profanity filter engaged), they dropped [I]_six regiments[/I]_ of men and hardware into a siege situation where they knew _nothing_ about their opponent's abilities, except that they _didn't _know. What a bunch of [I]_morons[/I]_. They also bought the University's BS hook, line, and sinker, the whole course of the First Contact Massacre, and paid up an entire [I]_fleet[/I]_ for the loss of a research vessel and a freighter! The University and Morganites didn't even sustain any fatalities!

[I]Gullible,[/I] and [I]Stupid.[/I]

-The first entry on Citadel races to appear on the Datalinks, believed to have been written by a Spartan who served in the First Contact Massacre.

((()))

AN: And that's the end of the Prologue. Or possibly the end of the story altogether, depending on what I feel like. Either way, I need to go finish Cameron's Legacy, or at least 'book one' of it; hopefully I'll have another chapter of that up after the weekend.


	12. HPCS 1980, Radio Potter

"Voool-deeeee-mort... Vooowl-deeeeey-_mort!"_ Harry called over his Dark-Lord-Hotline.

No response.

"Vooooldy! Voooo-owwwwoooo-ooooldy!" Harry called.

No response.

"_**VOLDEMORT!"**_ Harry screamed.

"_What_, Potter?" Voldemort demanded.

"I've got a seeee-cret!" Harry declared happily.

"Well good for you," Voldemort snarled, "Now kindly leave me to sleep in _peace_."

"Nope!" Harry chirped merrily, "Not gonna until you guess the secret!"

"Potter," Voldemort declared, "You _will_ silence yourself at once, or I will _punish_ you."

"Nope," Harry said, "That's not the secret."

"_Potter_," Voldemort growled, "Do you recall what I did with the Imperious Curse in the graveyard? That is _nothing _compared to what I will do to you if you do not silence yourself _this instant_."

"Nope," Harry said, and Voldemort could _feel_ the boy's smile, it _burned_.

It burned in his _mind_.

"That's not the secret!" Harry declared.

Despite the fact that the link was purely mental, and did not involve a mouth, throat, or indeed any part of the breathing or speech apparatus, Voldemort managed to froth into the link. He was, in fact attempting to inflict pain upon Harry through the link, but the Potter scion did not appear to notice.

"Ew," Harry said, "Not that either. Good guess though!"

"Potter," Voldemort said quietly after some time had passed, "If I guess correctly, will you be _silent_?"

"Sure!" Harry said, "Why not? I see no reason to be unreasonabababble!"

"_Very well then_," Voldemort ground out, "What is this secret regarding? Your pathetic attempts at a love life?"

"Nope!"

"Your _friend's_ pathetic attempts at love lives?"

"Nope!"

"Your latest progression in the art of killing?"

"Nope... wait, why would I be learning that? It doesn't sound like a fun art..."

"...nevermind. Perchance could it be a repeat of that insipid competition from last year?"

"Nope!"

"I give up then," Voldemort said, "I cannot imagine what else you could possibly be partaking of in your puerile pubescent existence."

"Well then," Harry said happily, and Voldemort could feel that _damn_ smile again, _burning his mind._

"**I'M DRUNK!"**__Harry screamed across the link, and then promptly passed out.

Voldemort raged, but Harry was beyond his reach.

((()))

"Hey, Tom. Hey, hey Tom. Tom! Oh, oh, TooooOOOOOOoooom!"

No response.

"Tooooooooom. Tom. TomTomTom. **TOOOOOOMMMM!"**

"Potter, you insufferable twit, I swear, if you're drunk again, wards or _no wards_, I _will_ find a way to take you by the throat and _wring your scrawny little neck!_"

"Nope, Tommy, not drunk! But do you know what I _am?_"

"No," Voldemort said wryly, "But I do imagine you're about to tell me."

"I found this _great_ new thing in dear dudderdumplin's room, little red pills, and I took two of 'em! Do you know what they're called?"

"No," Voldemort said flatly, "I do not."

"**SPEEEEEEEEEDDDD!"**

Ten hours later, when Potter finally came down, then passed out again, Voldemort _dearly_ wished that Occlumency worked against connections forged via the soul, rather than the mind. He also discovered that his new body was capable of experiencing a headache.

((()))

"Voldermort!"

No response.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle!"

No response.

"Ass-face!"

"_Ass-face_? _Really_ Potter, did no one ever teach you to keep a civil tongue in your mouth?"

"Actually," Harry replied very seriously, "I was beaten every time a word came out of my mouth that Vernon objected to. Which most of the time, was _any_ words. Anyways, I just thought you ought to know something."

"And what, pray tell, would that be?"

"_I know a song that gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves, gets on your nerves! I know a-_

Three hours of incoherent screaming and raging later, two Death Eaters had been crippled by the Cruciatus curse.

((()))

"_Buddy you're a boy make a big noise, playin' in the street gonna be a big man some day, you got mud on yo' face, you big disgrace, kickin' your can all over the place."_

"Potter, you _will_ silence yourself."

_We will we will rock you, we will we will rock you."  
_"Potter, it may interest you to know that I have recently discovered the home address of your dear friend, Miss Granger."_  
"Buddy you're a young man hard man, shoutin' in the street gonna take on the world some day, you got blood on yo' face, you big disgrace, wavin' your banner all over the place,"_

"If you do not cease this infernal racket _immediately_, I shall Apparate to Miss Granger's residence, _immediately_, and _dispose_ of the little mudblood."_  
"We will we will rock you, we will we will rock you."  
__**CRACK.**__  
Buddy you're an old man poor man, pleadin' with your eyes gonna make you some peace some day,"_

Voldemort entered the Granger residence via the simple expedient of blasting the door open, and striding directly in._  
"You got mud on your face, you big disgrace, somebody better put you back in your place."  
_He discovered that the house was empty of living beings._  
"We will we will rock you, we will we will rock you."_

The radio, however, was on.

It was a pity that he didn't appreciate electric guitar; Harry thought the solo was awesome.

((()))

"Who's on first?"

"WHAT ARE YA ASKIN ME FOR! I DUNNO! I'm asking _you_ who's on first?"

"That's the name!"

"Well then go ahead and tell me."

"Who."

"The guy on first.

"That's him."

…

"That's his name!"

"I sure? I ain't askin you nuthin'."

"You did."

"You know the name of the guy on first base? Tell me the name of the guy on first base!"

"Who."

"The guy playin' first base!"

"Who is on first!"

"WELL WHAT'RE YOU ASKIN' ME FOR?"

"Now don't get excited..."

Voldemort decided that once he had conquered the world, he was going to _eradicate_ baseball.

((()))

"Hey, Hey Voldie, Guess what?"

"No."

"Aww, don't be a spoil-sport, go on, guess!"

"No."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're really dull?"

"No one among the living."

"Psychopath. Anyways, since you're too rude to guess, I suppose I'll just have to tell you. I learned something new today!"

"Horrors."

"Gee, you're depressing. Know what I learned?"

"Suddenly, I discover, that even for one such as I, some things are best left unknown."

"I learned how to project what I can see and hear through my thoughts!"

"Wonders. I have no desire to see your scarecrow of an aunt, or the fat lumps that serve as your male relatives."

"Oh, don't worry, Tommy Boy, I've got something _much_ better in story for you. Here, have a look."

A television appeared in Tom Riddle's mind's eye.

On it, a purple monstrosity vaguely shaped like a dinosaur.

It began to sing.

And Voldemort that there really _were_ some things man was not meant to know.

((()))

"And tonight, on Air Harry, we will be featuring our host, Harry Potter, yodeling for your edification, the complete works of Frank Zappa!"

((()))

"In the name of the Moon, I will Punish you!"

((()))

"Do you really want to huuu—urt me, do you reeally want to make me cry?"

"YES POTTER, A THOUSAND TIMES YES!"

((()))

"Way back when I was just a little bitty boy living in a box under the stairs in the corner of the basement of the house half a block down the street from Jerry's Bait shop, you know the place-"

"Just so you know Potter, I have Death Eaters watching your residence non-stop. If you set one _toe_ outside of those wards, _you are mine_."

((()))

"Tom, hey-"

"No need to badger me Potter, I have resigned myself to the fact that your facility for irritating me far exceeds my patience."

"Awww, is someone growing up?"

…

"Anyways, I just thought I should let you know, the featured musician from last night's broadcast has inspired me to take up a new instrument!"

Harry could not see it, but through their link, he could _feel_ Voldemort shiver in terror.

"That's right, I'm going to learn the _Accordian!_ Let's _Polka!_"

((()))

"Transformers, robots in disguise, Transformers! More than meets the eye..."

((()))

"Captain Planet, he's the-"

"You know Potter, I think I can feel my soul shriveling. How do you force yourself to watch this putrescent filth?"

"It's a hard sacrifice to make, but I've got a lot more soul left than you do. I'm pretty sure I'll outlast you. Now shut up, this is the episode on AIDS."

"What in perdition's name is AIDS?"

"Oh, Tommy!" Harry exulted, "Don't tell me that I get to explain the wonders of STD's to you?"

Voldemort discovered, to his horror, that Potter _could_ teach him things, things of blacker, darker lore than anything Voldemort himself had dared delve into.

((()))

"Well, dear listeners, I have unfortunate news. With the end of the Summer, I, your host, Harry Potter, am being moved from the Durzkaban facility, and this broadcast site must, sadly, shut down."

"If I believed in a higher being, I would thank it. As things stand, I will thank myself."

"Not to worry though! We're moving to newer, better equipped quarters at scenic Hogwarts, and our broadcast schedule is only going to intensify, with access to new resources, such as _Hogwarts gossip. _I hope you like bad romance stories, because we're sure going to have a lot of them for you!"

For the first time in decades, Voldemort felt the desire to cry.

((()))

AN: I needed something to post today; Cameron's Legacy chapter six is at ~10,500 words, and isn't even close to done. None of the other stuff was done, so I decided to slap something together, and this came to mind, evolving as it went. I make no excuses.


	13. HP: Crack

AN: Working on something big. May show up next week on my , may just be on SB. We'll see.

((()))

The rather jolly fellow who possessed _far_ too much beard, and roughly six inches too much height to be a firsty, sat down with aplomb, and then placed the sorting hat on his head.

"Oh dear," The Sorting Hat said, "You don't even belong in this reality. Well, only one thing for it then. _RAVENCLAW!"_

_...  
_

_"AND HOUSE LOVECRAFT FOR THE BEARD!"  
_

__((()))

He was rather large for a firsty. Also, rather green. Also, rather tall. Roughly eight feet too tall. And muscular. About eight hundred pounds too muscular.

The hat didn't even sit on his head properly.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat screamed.

((()))

_Haaaa-kooouugh_

The student body stared.

_Haaaa-kooouugh_

The staff stared.

_Haaaa-kooouugh_

__The _Sorting Hat_ stared, at least until the armored figure placed it upon his head. Over his helmet.

_Haaa-kooouugh_

_"GRYFFINDOR!" _The hat screamed.

((()))

A burning eye, held aloft between a pair of ebony spires floated silently across the floor of the Great Hall, glaring silently at the Sorting Hat.

"Oh don't even bother," The Hat growled, "Slytherin if I ever saw one."

((()))

A robust mechadendrite with a broad gripping attachment at the end carefully raised the Sorting Hat, and then placed it upon an armored skull.

One of the second years was quietly sick as she caught sight of one of the implants beneath the individuals red robes.

"RAVENCLAW!"

((()))

A short, but determined girl of asiatic descent stalked up to the stool, small red jewel grasped firmly in hand. She was small, too small to be a firsty, even counting the often-smaller stature of orientals, and the hat completely engulfed her head, concealing all but the very end of her brunette ponytail.

Less than a second passed before the hat spoke.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" It declared, a sort of vindictive amusement clear in its voice.

((()))

A psychedelic pink Pony bounced; not skipped, not cantered, _bounced_ to the hat, then with a deft flip of its head, flipped the hat on, then sat, almost vibrating with excitement.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted.

"YAY!" The Pony shouted from the Hufflepuff table, the hat falling onto the stool as there rather abruptly was nothing supporting it.

((()))

A crackling blue-white orb of energy with a pair of energy arcs extending from opposite sides drifted over to the Sorting Hat, and slipped beneath it.

"SLYTHERIN!" The Hat declared, "YOU IDIOT!"

((()))

AN: Purely for my own amusement. My project of the last two weeks is at ~21k words, with 30+ hours of additional background work done. This is, obviously, something that comes from a lack of writing time for other things. Also, for my own amusement. If you can figure out who or what each individual sorted is, you should be able to imagine what an interesting year this is going to be, yes?

Cookie for anyone who figures them all out.


	14. Naruto: Card and Curmudgeons

AN: I'm basically throwing this up because I'm suffering from near-total writer's block. I've produced pretty patheticly over the last couple weeks; part of this is due to moving, but more of is just major creative jam. This is a brief continuation of _The Night The House of Cards Was Built_, by Drakensis (link to his author page on my Favorite Authors list), and won't make much sense if you haven't read that first. I wrote it a few weeks ago after a challenge of sorts was issued on Space Battles, and is here as a bone to my readers. It may be September before you see something from me again; I'll be on a trip for a week, and then there's the writer's block itself. You can consider this official notice that the author is on sabbatical.

((()))

Uzumaki Naruto had never had a happier day _in his entire life_. And when you're six years old, that's a _long_ time! Not only would he never have to go back to the orphanage but the old man in charge of it had _finally_ done something funny. Naruto didn't really count the thing with the eggplant and the catapult, since that had been the work of some genius prankster. Or the eggs and the wind chimes. Or the thing with the artichoke, the porcupine, two toasters and a squirrel.

Naruto leaned forward to rest his chin on his neechan's head; maybe the orphanage's manager _was_ a funny man, but only when he was around the right people?

_If it didn't mean going back to the orphanage,_ Naruto decided silently, _I'd have to visit him to help him out!_

Then they reached the Hyuuga mansion, and all thought of grumpy old men fled Naruto's mind.

"What are you doing up there?" Naruto asked curiously, staring at the twitchy Hyuuga Shinobi that was clinging to the top of the open gate into the mansion.

"What are _you_ doing up _there_?" The Hyuuga snapped back, glaring down at Naruto, who was seated on Anko's shoulders, with his chin on her head, and his feet arguably doing more for her modesty than her mesh shirt and unbuttoned jacket.

"Coming home?" Naruto said, wide blue eyes full of innocence.

"Ahem," Interjected the Hokage, drawing the attention of all present pas the door, and into the Hyuuga mansion itself, "If Naruto and his retinue would come with me, I believe it's time to handle the arbitration of debts and properties."

"Okay, Jiji!" Naruto burst out, and tugged on Anko's spikey hair.

"Right master," Anko said, striding forward into the Hyuuga , Kurenai rolling her eyes and then falling in alongside.

"Why d'you call me that?" Naruto asked, leaning forward to pear down into Anko's face.

"What, you mean master, gaki?" Anko asked, looking up at the boy curled over her head.

"Yeah," Naruto said, "It's _weird_. What does it even mean, anyways?"

"It means you're in charge, I guess," Anko said with a shrug, almost bucking Naruto forward off of her shoulders.

"If I'm the boss," Naruto said, glaring down at Anko, "Then call me _Boss_. I don't want some weirdo name when you're supposed to call me Boss, that's disresectful!"

"I think you mean 'disrespectful,'" Kurenai said, pausing a moment before adding, "_Boss_."

"Yeah, that!" Naruto said, leaning back then nodding sharply, tugging on Anko's hair to maintain his balance, causing the Chuunin to wince, "See, Kurenai-nee knows how to show respect!"

"Sure _Boss_," Anko said, grinning and rolling her eyes, though Naruto could not see it from his position on her shoulder, "Whatever you say."

The Hokage just grinned.

((()))

A half mile downstream from the bridge where Shisui and Itachi had had their little 'chat,' a 'corpse' washed up on the bank of the small river, and abruptly gasped, coughing up blood.

"What the _hell?_" Shisui said, "When did Itachi find out I was a Dextrocardiac?"

He looked down at the bloody hole in the left side of his chest, and realized that his false-death technique wearing off did not, in fact, mean he was no longer suffering from a collapsed lung. Lurching to his feet, he began making the best speed he could in his bestabbed state towards the hospital.

((()))

"As both Hokage, and appointed Arbitrator, I officially call this session to _order_."

The voice of Hiruzen Sarutobi cut through the air like a sword. More specifically, a chakra-steel kunai being used to channel Wind-nature chakra for an excessively sharp edge. This degree of sharpness was both important, and essential, as the session was in _great_ need of order.

Kuroda, the weaponsmith, sat against the middle of the back wall of the room, _glaring_ at anyone who dared to make a loud noise, which was about half the other people present. His daughter, Tenten, was seated on his shoulders, arms wrapped around his head, and taking in everything with the curiosity of a child; Kuroda was an _enormous _man, but his daughter's position seriously eroded the intimidation value of his glare.

Flanking him to the right, were the Hyuuga Elders, Hiashi himself, and his brother, Hizashi. All of them were exuding the legendary Hyuuga stoic demeanor, which had the potential to form a very imposing collective presence. This potential was definitively wasted by the presence of Hana, Hiashi's wife, and Hinata, his elder daughter, who was seated comfortably in her mother's lap; this raised the cute quotient amongst the Hyuuga contingent high enough to dramatically lower the intimidation quotient.

On the opposite side of the room, to Kuroda's left, and the Hokage's right, were the Yamanaka, Nara, and Akimichi clan heads, each engaged in attempts to evade injury or mutilation on the part of their spouses. Also present, though largely unnoticed, were Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji, having trailed in after their parents, with no one being particularly interested in stopping them.

Finally, seated in the dead center of the room, on top of her largely-pummeled husband, who was staining the floor with blood from a number of small gashes, was Uchiha Mikoto, with Naruto seated directly in front of her, gazing curiously at her sword from between Kurenai and Anko.

With the Hokage's voice of command drawing an end to the havoc in the room, particularly in the Uchiha and Ino-Shika-Cho sectors, he decided to grace everyone with one of his grandfatherly smiles (though Naruto and his new 'neechans' were unable to see, as they were facing away from him), and get down to the real meat of things.

"It would seem," Sarutobi said, in obvious good humor, "That Fortune favors the innocent; last night, young Uzumaki Naruto cleaned up quite nicely at the weekly council Poker game."

Murmurs of outrage, especially _feminine_ outrage, began to stir, but the Hokage cut it off with a sharp gesture, before continuing.

"Each family represented here has incurred a material debt to young Naruto that they are unable to redeem with Ryo directly, and the current outstanding, hm," An expression passed across the Hokage's face, one that suggested he was trying to decide whether or not to smile, "_Possessions_, that are owed to Naruto, are as follows."

The Hokage, with some amount of dramatic flourish, removed a scroll from the sleeve of his robes, unrolled it with a flick of his wrist, and began to read.

"Beginning with the _least_ indebted parties, the Akimichi clan owe Naruto and his family specifically a feast, as well as the Uzumaki clan in general the deeds to seventeen restaurants and rental properties in the core marketplace of Konoha; as these deeds were remanded to Naruto's custody last night, however, all that remains is to give the Akimichi the opportunity to reclaim these deeds in exchange for cash. Do you possess the cash to reclaim any of these?"

Chouza, head hung in shame, opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by his wife.

"If the Uzumaki clan would be willing to return the deed to Sankyu's, I believe I possess the appropriate sum," Chime said, a chill tone in her voice.

Chime then proceeded to upend her purse, and rip out the lining. Which turned out to be concealing a padding made of large-denomination Ryo notes. Chouza opened his mouth again, to ask _why_ she stored Ryo in the lining of her purse, then remembered that she was a _ninja_, living in a village _full_ of ninja, in a world dominated by _ninja_, and shut up.

"'Boss,'" Kurenai said, "Could you pass me the deed for Sankyu's, so I can make sure this is the appropriate amount?"

"Sure, Neechan!" Naruto said, withdrawing the small scroll from one of his many pockets, "I'm not too good at math anyways."

"We'll have to work on that," Kurenai said as she took the scroll, and went to sort out amounts with the Akimichi matriarch.

"I don't suppose you have the Ryo to redeem any of the other titles?" The Hokage asked; Chouza shook his head, and the Hokage moved down the list, "Well then, next up, is the Yamanaka clan, who owe the Uzumaki clan one daughter of the clan head."

Silence reigned over the room, as Inoichi's wife calmly wrapped her arms around the man's throat, and began to strangle him.

"Daddy was naughty again, wasn't he?" Ino asked, interrupting the silence as she watched her father attempt to argue in his defense, while lacking the ability to breath.

"It would appear that your mother, at the least, would think so," Sarutobi said, before moving on down the list, "Master Smith Kuroda similarly owes the Uzumaki clan one daughter, as well as a complete field kit of Kunai, Shuriken, and Senbon."

Tenten, unlike Ino, immediately realized what her father had done, and took advantage of her position wrapped around his head to bite down on his ear, and attempt to strangle him with her legs. Due to the massive muscles that formed the majority of Kuroda's neck, her strangle attempt was unsuccessful, and it was hard to tell if he even noticed her chewing on his ear, given how he was smashing his face into the floor repeatedly. Given the vigor of his face-smashing, the Hokage was rather impressed that Tenten was managing to maintain her grip; it seemed that she had already begun to inherit her father's strength.

"Neechan," Naruto said to Anko in a complete failure of a whisper, "These people are _weird_."

"I know, Boss," Anko said, posture slumping in mock fatigue, "It's hard being surrounded by crazies all the time, but don't worry, I'll protect you from them."

"Moving on," The Hokage said, making use of decades of experience at keeping a straight face to not burst into laughter, "One of the merchants was unable to be here, but has already arranged for a shipment of clothing to the new Uzumaki residence, which brings us to the matter of the Hyuuga's losses."

This time, the Hokage didn't bother to hide a small grin as he began to read off the Hyuuga's losses.

"First, the Hyuuga clan also owes the Uzumaki clan two females, though who they are to be was not specified beyond their status as 'maidens.' Second, the Hyuuga have lost the very residence we are within now to the Uzumaki. Finally, the Hyuuga have lost custody of the Konoha Hot Springs Resort to the Uzumaki clan. Do the Hyuuga possess the funds to redeem any of these properties?"

"Not at this time," Hiashi said, his expression suggesting that, perhaps, his tea not being ready at this time would be of greater concern, that is, any concern at all.

"Well then," The Hokage said gravely, "It would appear that you have arrangements to make with your new landlord, as well as a decision to make regarding which two maidens shall join Clan Uzumaki."

"Hinata Hyuuga," Hyuuga Councilor One said.

"And Hanabi Hyuuga," Hyuuga Councilor Two said.

"Have been selected to serve in this regard," Hyuuga Councilor Three said.

Hiashi didn't groan. He didn't tremble, even in the slightest. And small tears _certainly_ did not spring to his eyes. _None_ of these things happened.

"You appear to bear no reluctance in the clan losing custody of both of its potential heirs," Hyuuga Hana remarked calmly, "Do you not bear reservations about so upsetting the succession?"

"Hmph," Councilor Three said.

"It is of no consequence," Councilor Two said.

"We can simply wait for a proper, _male_, heir to be produced," Councilor One finished.

"I see," Hana said, her voice _perfectly_ calm, before turning to Hinata, "Hinata-chan, why don't you go play with Naruto-kun there, while I go and collect your sister?"

"Un," Hinata said, nodding up at her mother, before climbing out of the graceful woman's lap, and padding lightly over to where Kurenai was rejoining Anko and Naruto, while her mother silently slipped out of the room.

"And with that dealt with," Sarutobi said, reclaiming the attention of the majority of the room's occupants, "We come to the final, and most heavily indebted family. The Uchiha."

Fugaku groaned at the mention of his clan, and began to recover some degree of awareness of the world around him.

"The Uchiha clan, should they have failed to come up with sufficient funds to redeem the, owe the Uzumaki clan one Mikoto Uchiha, currently the only female Jounin of the Uchiha clan, and... The Secret."

The Hyuuga elder's eyes widened; _they_ had not been informed that _The Secret_ was up for grabs at the previous night's game; perhaps they had been overly harsh in their judgment of Hiashi, after all, nearly _any_ risk would be justified for a chance at attaining... _The Secret_.

"We'll give you-" Elder Two burst out.

"Three quarters of a million Ryo," Elder One blurted out.

"For The Secret, Uzumaki!" Elder Three Snorted out, having been in the middle of a sip of tea, which now came spewing out of his nose.

Naruto, who had been trying to coax some words out of the terminally shy Hinata, abruptly gave the Hyuuga Elders his full, and _very_ irate attention.

"Did you jerks just offer me money for some stupid _secret_," He snarled, glaring at the trio, utterly uncowed by their greater size or numbers, "When you wouldn't cough it up for Hinata-chan?"

"Foolish boy!" Elder One declared.

"The Secret is _far_ more important than," Elder Two continued with a glare.

"Than _ouch_," Elder Three was cut off by Naruto kicking him in the shin.

"You guys _suck_," Naruto declared fiercely, "Get outta my house, and don't come back until you've learned not to be meanie stupidheads!"

Elder Three, incensed by the assault on his person, lashed downward at the blonde, his finger glowing with the chakra characteristic to Jyuuken strikes. He was interrupted by the Hokage snapping his fingers, and all three Hyuuga disappeared in a whirl of cloaks and ANBU masks.

"Well," The Hokage said, glaring at Hiash, then the other ninja still in the room meaningfully, "Now that that little distraction is dealt with, we can move on to the matter of the Uchiha's debt to the Uzumaki."

"Preposterous!" Fugaku blurted out from beneath his wife, his voice revealing that he was clearly at _least_ half dazed, "The gaki must have cheated, Kitsune are tricksters, he must have received help from the-"

Fugaku was cut off by another snap of Sarutobi's fingers. Mikoto, moving like the Jounin she was, managed to not only get out of the ANBU's way as they moved in, but also get one last kick in at Fugaku's nuts as he was spirited away.

"It would appear," The Sandaime growled, his voice clearly indicating that his patience had just _ended_, while he somehow projected Killing Intent towards everyone _except_ for Naruto and the new members of the Uzumaki clan, "That the Uchiha are unable to pay their debts with cash. Now, unless there are any _other_ parties who wish to _dispute_ my arbitration of this affair?"

None of the non-Uzumaki present dared raise a hand. In fact, none of them so much as moved, failing even to breath. When the God of Shinobi glared at you, you got _glared_.

A knock at the door drew said God of Shinobi's attention, and the Killing Intent subsided, allowing everyone to breathe again.

"Who is it?" Sarutobi said, his voice as placid as a leaf upon the wind.

"ShiroKuro deliveries," A gravelly voice replied, "Got a few crates o' clothes here for one 'Uzumaki Naruto."

"You may bring them in," Sarutobi said gracefully.

Shoji panels slid open, and a dozen men, either black-skinned wearing white uniforms, or white-skinned wearing black uniforms, carried in three large crates.

"What's in the boxes?" Naruto asked curiously.

"Let's find out," The group's foreman said, before pulling a mallet from his belt, and knocking the front panel of the first crate open.

Pouring forth from within the crate, came dozens and dozens of bright orange jumpsuits, sized and cut for everything from an infant to a full grown man.

((()))


	15. Beard Again

AN: Because Keratin is just that scary.

((()))

Originally, the Cthulu Mythos contained Ryan's Beard; however, after a 'talk,' Lovecraft and his writing associates were persuaded not to include it with 'the riff-raff.'

Ryan's Beard has been the presiding chair of the League of Beards since its founding.

Ryan's Beard was slated to appear in 40K, but the Emprah decided to go clean-shaven instead.

Originally, the Sun was simply a Gas Supergiant at the core of solar system. Then Ryan's Beard decided it was too dark, and told the solar system's other celestial bodies to do something about that.

Once, in an age long past, there was a continent occupying part of what is now the Pacific Ocean. The entities now known as Ryan's Beard, Chuck Norris' beard, and Mr. T's hair, had a throw down; now all that remains is the Ring of Fire.

For kicks, Ryan's Beard operated under an assumed identity and dabbled in Comedic Villainy in the mid 20th century. The ultimate product of this later became known as The Lost Skeleton of Kadavra.

Ryan's Beard was once spurned by a major player in the Anime industry. Beards became so scarce therein, that the Bishi emerged as a result. This act of retaliation is one of the few things the Beard regrets.

The Romans considered beards to be a sign of an uncivilized people; rather than simply destroy their civilization outright, Ryan's Beard spent more than a thousand years rubbing their noses in the folly of their ways, before finally finishing the empire off.

The influence of Ryan's Beard upon Egypt was so strong, that even the female Pharoah's were expected to have beards.

Ryan's Beard watched the Tsara Bomba detonation. From Ground Zero.

((()))

AN: I like cake!


	16. HP Crack pt 2

AN: I'll be blunt. This is me slapping something together to post, because I'm hitting my self-imposed weekly deadline, and I've got jack shit I'm willing to put up. Hope it amuses, though.

((()))

Gryffindor:

"_**You are a strange creature, 'Hulk,'**_" The black-armored figure ground out, _"__**What world are you from**_**?"**

"Hulk does not understand little black man's question," Hulk rumbled back, "What is 'world'?"

((()))

Ravenclaw:

"So the Cult Mechanicus is about the pursuit and accumulation of all knowledge?" One of the Ravenclaw upper years asked thoughtfully.

"_Indeed, Juvie,_" The Tech-Priest replied, his or her voice buzzing through a synthesizer "_I came to this world in pursuit of the most sacred of all repositories of knowledge, the Standard Template Construct. Will you aid me in my search?_"

"Just what does this 'Standard Template Construct contain?" The student pressed.

"_The sum of all human knowledge._"

"I will help you," The Ravenclaw replied without another thought.

((()))

Hufflepuff:

"Wheee!" The Pink Pony shouted, literally vibrating with excitement, "_So many new friends!_ We. Must. Have. A. PARTY!"

((()))

Slytherin:

"_Fool_," The glowing orb of energy screamed, "_I am immortal, you cannot defeat me!_"

"_I have endured since Arda was sung into existence, pitiful Fea,_" The great flaming eye replied, its very voice seeming to make reality shudder around it, "_I have ruled lands stretching from the Western sea to the borders of Rhun. What makes you think you can triumph against me?_"

"_Starscream is _Invincible," The blue mote replied in a rage, leaping across the distance to throw itself at the flaming eye.

All seven years of Slytherin students watched in some fear, and a great deal of confusion, as a glowing blue ball of energy and an eye made of fire tried to fight with each other.

((()))

AN: Not much. But I've been busy; I'm ~6k words into the next chapter of Hero Harry, and life goes on...


	17. Dead Adventurers Don't Wear Plaid

A/N: This is, of sorts, a spiritual successor to the Dungeon Crawler series. It's the result of me trying to break my writer's block by going out and writing whatever the hell I want; considering I put out 15k words in 4-5 days, I'd say it was pretty successful. It was originally posted, with interactive intention, on the SpaceBattles Creative Writing Forum. If there are some things that don't make sense in here, it's because not everything made it to here from there; if you'd like to sort it out, just hope on over to SB and look up the thread 'Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid.'

((()))

Escape Night 1:

Sewage,. I am certain it will come as no surprise for you to learn, stinks. What is worse then the _smell_, however, is the _texture_. Especially when you're swimming through it with nothing more than enough fabric around your waist to preserve your modest, it is _nasty_ against your skin, in your hair, but _especially_ up against your _face_.

Sewers still do make an excellent escape route; unfortunately, these sewers are not so lovely as to be the wide open tunnels you'll see in movies or depicted in books. Make no mistakes, some old cities actually do have such constructs; but wherever I am, doesn't. Instead it has channels that are just large enough for a man to crawl through; somewhat cramped for me to crawl through, as at 6'2" (about 189 cm for those of you on Metric), I'm tall, if not excessively so. For an occidental, anyways.

Darkvision, by the way, is _damn_ useful. It works less like a flashlight, and more like what I imagine a light-collecting or multi-spectrum lens would; there's some form of radiation emitted from basically everything that's not at absolute zero (and even some things that are). My re-engineered eyes are able to pick up such emissions, and the altered bits of my brain (which I can't remember the name of right now) interpret this into something much like what I can see in the 'visible' spectrum.

I came to a corner in the sewer tunnel, contorted my way around it, and found myself at a grate, on the other side of which I could see the night sky.

First time I've seen the sky since I arrived on this plane at least six months ago. Part of my heart that had been contracting tighter and tighter with every day since I woke up in the lab unclenched a little, and tears came to my shit-encrusted eyes. Shaking my head furiously, I focused myself; I had not escaped _yet_, and until the job was finished, I couldn't let myself get nostalgic.

Bracing my feet against the walls of the sewer, I planted my right hand against the metal grate, and _pushed_. To my considerable surprise, what had only been intended as a test of the grate's strength immediately began to make it give way; I knew my strength had been augmented, but the bars were a good half-inch thick, they shouldn't be giving away _this_ easily. Pulling back for a moment, I shifted around so I could get a close-up look at the metal, and found that it was not only bending, it was already starting to shear.

Shrugging off the strangely good fortune, I repositioned myself, and began pressing against the edges of the grate. It was a bit more difficult so close to its anchoring points, but over a couple of minutes I tore the thing mostly out of place. With the grate bent to a near ninety-degree angle from its few remaining anchor-points (those on top), I slipped carefully through, then twisted around and bent it back into place as best as I could; close inspection would reveal my escape route, but it should stand up to that of a merely casual observer.

And then I scurried down the last dozen or so feet of the sewer channel, and was free.

((()))

Escape Day 1.

The sewer had exited into a large saltwater bay, and I could see the lights of a city or town stretching along the coast to my right, with what looked a fair number of docks with three-masted sailing ships moored at them. My eyesight used to be just barely good enough that I didn't need glasses, but the researchers in the lab 'helpfully' fixed that for me, along with fixing me up with Darkvision. That was one of the procedures they conducted after I first came to consciousness six months ago, and you can damn well know that I would much rather they did it while I was still in an induced coma. Having your eyes remodeled from the ground up is a _bitch_.

The shore to my left was much closer, and I could make out the outline of a forest that ran nearly right up to the edge of a cliff of modest height. A _large_ river was about a hundred yards to my left, and it looked to form the natural boundary between the town and the forest, especially with the cliff that formed the far side of the river bank. Considering that the cliff had prevented the settlement from spreading to both sides, there was probably either some sort of edict forbidding expansion in place, or the settlement was small enough that it just wasn't worth the trouble involved in trying to bridge both river and cliff yet.

So. Thoughts now; for what is at least _supposedly_ my audience here. Since making it into the sewers from the mage-lab I just escaped from, I got a lovely little message, prefaced with a troll face.

Yes, _that_ troll face. The message reads as follows:

"_Congratulations! An Adventurer is you! Welcome to the wonderful and terrible world of Tyrin, where adventure awaits! As a ROB, I've elected to send you here as a sort of experiment; you're not here to _amuse_ me, you're here for the purposes of SCIENCE! Go, learn about the world, interact with and attempt to change it as you see fit, and know that all the while, I'll be looking in on your progress whenever my other experiments aren't occupying my time, to see what sorts of changes you will effect. And while it's not the explicit purpose of this, feel free to amuse me as well._

_A few notes, to help you out:_

_This world is, functionally, a low-magic Dungeons and Dragons or Pathfinder setting. Pretty much everything you've heard of from them is present here, though they may be hard to find._

_Certain challenges that you stumble across through means less than entirely natural will earn you rewards. For example, I slipped you in amongst that lab's latest set of 'volunteers' for experimentation, so when you escaped, you won this little message and your techno-telepathic link for escaping._

_Said link is a mental connection to that fascinating collection of speculative extremes present on your world's internet. You know the one._

_Careful about getting yourself killed, no Clerics or other deific aligned magics, so death is rather more permanent than most D&D worlds!_

If the message, which _literally_ appeared as readable text in my mind, was truthful, I've been following the correct mental process for getting this to show up on SB. It's just getting to be dawn here, and while I've swum a little ways out into the bay to get away from the sewer drain, I've not gone towards either shore. I was a strong swimmer before they started enhancing my constitution (I know I could swim by 4-5 years old, I don't actually have any conscious memories of a time when I _couldn't)_, but I'm going to need to pick one side or another before long. The saltwater's washed off most of the shit, but I'm still wearing, basically, a pair of grotty boxers, so my odds of being able to blend in inside of the city aren't the best, but on the other hand, while I'm not totally incompetent, I'm not the best at wilderness survival either.

It's not much, but does this setting sound familiar to anyone as a published D'n'D setting they could give me meta-knowledge about to abuse? Anyone got particular advice on whether the forest side or city side would be a better plan? Knowledge of forest survival skills to enhance my chances there? I'm a pretty accomplished climber, and in better shape than I've ever been in in my life, so I should be able to make it up the cliff face.

Either way, I can only wait so long for advice; they'll notice I'm missing before too long, and then they'll start looking for me. And considering they're mages (not sure what type, but definitely arcane), they'll have Scrying and other divinatory magic to try to come after me with.

((()))

_ROB's note to readers:_

_My test subject, LordsFire, doesn't get to read this bit, but you do! He's currently an ECL 2 ½ adventurer, no class levels, but a little bit of a magical template on him. You know how I told him he could earn rewards? Well, you guys get to set the challenges for him! Pick out a challenge (be it monsters, traps, or social encounters) within a reasonable distance of his ECL, and a proposed reward. If I like it, I'll use it, and we'll see how long he lasts for._

_No telling him about this part though, it's a seeeecret! n_n_

_-Your friendly neighbourhood ROB._

((()))

A/N: This whole thing is a case of 'writer's block, I'm going to go write whatever the hell I want for a while to try and break it.' As such, no promises for how long it'll last. I've already kicked out more words in an hour than I've managed in most 2-3 day periods over the last few weeks, so it's working at least somewhat well.

((()))

((()))

AN: Back from playing the Game of Thrones board game. This was a lovely swarm of ideas to return to; thanks guys.

((()))

Escape Day 1.

Originally, I was thinking of heading for the forest, less likely to attract attention, but the input from you guys has helped me realize something important, _I need to know what kind of world this is_. Am I in Forgotten Realms during or just after the Spellplague? Can't be Eberron, not without changing it so much that it wouldn't be recognizable anyways, not with it being low magic. Some distant part of the Dark Sun setting?

Yeah, figuring out _where_ is going to be pretty damn important. So, I made my way to the docks, swimming quietly just above the surface, and keeping an eye out for prying eyes from the warf. I made it to the docks themselves without any issue, moving between a number of docked sailing ships; they were built like colonial-era vessels, but very notably, I did _not_ see any cannon, or even cannon ports, on them. There were a few guards patrolling the quay in the lackadaisical manner of those not expecting any real trouble, their spacing was crappy though, and I was able to slip up onto the waterfront, and into the alleys between the warehouses that lined it with little trouble.

I was relieved to get out of the water; swimming over time had been more difficult than I had expected, leading me to suspect that part of the enhancement to my body had made me more dense on the whole. More thoughts about that could wait though, as I worked my way further into the town/city before dawn could fully break, and promptly ran into trouble.

I noticed the first thug laying in wait, and opened my mouth to speak with him; I like to avoid violence where I can, but he preempted me by taking an overhead swing at me with the crude club he was carrying. My... _difficulties_ with the lab had lent me a ledge that a tough life on the streets couldn't _hope_ to match, however, and I deflected the blow with my forearm; the blow stung, but did no real damage.

His partner creeping up behind me though, I almost missed. 'Almost' being the key term; and only applying to me, _he_ missed terribly, and I could smell alcohol on him, even over the salt odor blowing in off the sea. My retaliatory strike, on the other hand, slammed into his jaw and almost knocked him cold, certainly knocked him off balance enough that his next wild swing was little more than an attempt to ward me off. It wouldn't have been enough by itself, but the first thug's follow up forced me back.

Letting them push me back turned out to be a _bad_ move; they got a rhythm working between the two of them, hemming me in and landing a pair of hammer blows against my sides. I coughed up a mouthful of blood spastically; but I was _not_ going to let a pair of punks take me out after I'd made it out of that _damn_ laboratory. Brushing away the pain, I hurled myself forward in an aggressive attack, and took the drunk in the solar plexus, knocking him off his feet. Thug number one nearly took me over the head for my trouble, but the adrenaline (or whatever they might have replaced it with) running through my system had me hyper-aware, and moving at near-inhuman speeds.

I ducked, swept up the drunk's dropped club, and faced off against number one in a more defensive stance. Things went downhill for him _real_ fast after that, he knew he was in trouble, and pushed me with an all-out attack, but he didn't have his buddy backing him up this time, and I slammed him in the chest, dodged a last desperate blow, then came around with the club again and crushed his skull. He dropped like a wet sack, _very_ obviously down for the count, and I spun around to make sure the drunk wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

He wasn't; my second blow had put him out cold, and I relaxed, just a little. Then I hacked, and coughed up blood again, spitting in disgust, and some fear. Body-blows causing bleeding in the lungs is _bad_, and to the best of my knowledge, they hadn't given me any kind of Fast Healing or Regeneration. Not much to be done about it just now though, I needed to get out of here in case the fight had attracted attention.

But first...

Looting the bodies (the thug with the crushed skull was dead, but I didn't let myself think about that just yet) yielded me coins, in silver and gold (but no copper), ten gold and four silvers. They also were each carrying a crappy knife, and not much else. Probably most importantly for me though, the 'not much else' included _clothes_. Which meant that, so long as people didn't look to close, I could get around in town without drawing too much attention.

Well, aside from the blood that I was coughing up again.

((()))

A couple hours later (Wearing my _wonderful_ new pants. I grew up in the middle east, and though I'm certainly not a muslim, it definitely had an impact on my sense of modesty), I was holed up in the eaves of a stable. My allergies appeared to have been removed as part of the researcher's work, something I did _not_ mind, and I figured I could catch a few hours rest here. There were enough of them in the town that it shouldn't be too easy for a Scry to locate me immediately, and I needed some time to sort my thoughts out.

First off, there's _damn_ little metalwork around, and especially, no noticeable iron, copper, or copper derivatives like brass or bronze. There's a lot of crappy tin metalwork for things like tableware, and silver is actually being used for some mundane tasks, but there's basically no iron whatsoever. The wood, stone, and glasswork in this town seems to be pretty damn refined though, lumber in the market being sold in forms almost indistinguishable from what you'd find at a modern hardware store or building supplier, glass windows being moderately common. I even saw some glass knives.

Second off, my appearance. I'm, as I mentioned earlier, six foot two inches tall, and when I was younger, I was incredibly scrawny. Between 5+ years of intentionally trying to gain weight, and six months since I woke up in the labs getting myself into damn good shape just as a matter of survival, I'm pretty fit now. One of the downsides to all the work they did on me, though, is that my skin is a patchwork of discoloration, dark blotches patterned all over the place, like oversized freckles and moles everywhere. This makes it just about impossible for me to blend in anywhere.

Third off, magic. It was hard to get much information without drawing attention, but the general opinion in the early-morning market crowds was that experimenting with and studying magic is _bad plan._ There are some, like Sorcerors and Bards, who just have an innate gift, and they were less feared, but extremely rare, and _nobody_ knew anything about magic-users who didn't start casting from an innate gift. Never even heard of a Wizard, though the term 'Arcanist' was what they appended to 'idiots who blow themselves, _and their neighbours_, up messing around with what man was not meant to.'

I'll have to check with some other settlements to be sure, but from what I gather, prepared arcane casters and iron-ore about as common as blood transfusions in the Crusades. Well, not quite _that_ rare, as they exist enough to be feared, either way, I won't be finding teaching/training any time soon.

I'll be breaking for either a caravan or convoy out of town, or making off into the woods on my own after I get some sleep. Anybody have any recommendations on other _specific_ things I should try to find out before then?

((()))

_ROB here: Good idea with the pants, everyone, I approve! Remember, the deal is that if you want me to use your suggestion, it has to include the reward for overcoming the obstacle!_

((()))

AN: I'm using a 3d6 dice mechanic instead of a 1d20 mechanic. 1d20 is just too wildly variable for a 'realistic' setting; the only major difference this will be making (aside from the rolls being more consistent and only having a range of 16 rather than 20), is that critical hits will be less statistically likely, and higher crit-range weapons will have much larger advantages. Still trying to figure out a called shot mechanic that's neither stupid-broken nor too difficult to be worthwhile.

((()))

Got a few hours sleep; I'm not coughing up blood anymore, but I feel like shit now that I'm fully off of the combat high. I've got at least a cracked rib, and as I'd never had a broken bone before in my life, this is a very unpleasant thing for me to cope with, largely because I lack experience. A few things regarding advice/input received those far:

First off, there's something that all of you need to know about Monk when it comes to powergaming; it sucks for offense, but two-level-dip is _amazing_ for defensive powergaming. AC Bonus, +3 to all saves, Evasion, and Deflect Arrows (which is an auto-block on primitive ranged weapons once per round. There's no random chance, it just works). When I play D'n'D or Pathfinder, unless I'm playing a character that's designed just to be silly, I _always_ AC/Save tank. Simply put, defensive specialization is the _true_ path to power.

And yes, Pathfinder Monk is _freaking amazing_. Mostly to get the seriously badass stuff though, you need to get all the way up to twenty-ish, and it just can't keep up with the casters when you're monoclassing to twenty.

As to casters, considering the scarcity of Arcane casters that aren't working from an in-born talent, I'm going to try to hunt me up a Druid. Frankly, it's the most powerful class in the game, and I _want_ that. My favorite classes for flavor/abilities though, are Swordsage and Psion. Swordsage isn't all that powerful in a pure number-grind mechanic way, but it is _incredibly_ high-utility. Reusable short term/range invisibility and teleport, fire damage output, _lots_ of defensive abilities, and at higher levels, it can go Incorporeal for a short time, walk on air, and smash people's bones to pulp. Also can make touch attacks at low levels, get massive bonuses to jump, etc, etc.

I also _definitely_ plan to hunt down a Shadowdancer. ROB said they'd be here somewhere, and there is _nothing_ as high for mundane-utility when you're just out to survive, as Hide in Plain Sight. Before I get into things like that more, however, I should go into what I already do know happened to me.

I'm far stronger than appropriate for my body mass and muscle bulk. I can lift just over three hundred pounds directly over my head, and get about six hundred and fifty off of the ground. As I recall, that's part of how the rules rate strength, so that should give you guys some idea where I am on the table.

I've always had good balance and coordination, but it's a lot better now. I don't know how much of this is because I spent six months constantly working my edge up, and how much is magical augmentation, but I'm _really_ sharp now. Unfortunately, I can't really give a concrete test for this, at least none that I can think of that relates to rules mechanics.

I come from a family with chronic good health; my grandpa on my dad's side died about two months before ROB-intervention happened; he was about eighty-two, and he died when his heart gave out while he was _moving the lawn_. When he was seventyish, he 'retired' down to three part-time jobs, and he didn't quit bow hunting until he was eighty, maybe seventy-nine. He still went rifle hunting. My other grandfather, 79 years old, is still a practicing MD. I have _good_ genes, and my only 'constitution' weakness was allergies. I've been made even tougher, though again, that's a hard thing to put an exact quantity on.

My mind has been expanded. Literally, it has more processing capacity than before, and I can hold more detailed and expansive concepts in my mind at once. This was _painful_ to experience and get accustomed to. I don't know if this is purely a physical aspect of brain augmentation, or if they worked on the metaphysical aspect of me as well, but either way, it was _not_ fun. My memory retention is pretty much perfect now though, and it never hurts to be more intelligent.

I have at least some amount of Natural Armor or Damage Reduction now; my skin could more accurately be called 'hide,' it's tough; flexible but tough, and combined with my denser muscle mass, it takes a lot more physical force to injure me than before. As the club-thugs made obvious though, nowhere near enough to make me invulnerable to common weapons.

I have some form of spell resistance. I don't know how much, but some spells have failed to work on me, and afterwards I feel... _energized_. I've got my suspicions about this, but I'll leave off until I've either got more time or had another chance to test this. Tied into this, I can _always_ tell when someone's trying to cast a spell on me, and whether or not it's worked, I think I've been able to distinguish when I 'make a save' from when the SR protects me, but right now the most important factor is whether or not the spell actually failed.

Some of my own abilities. I never actually took Calculus; sorry Xeno, not something an author really needs, and I topped out at Precalculus, having trouble with factoring polynomials. I could probably do it with my expanded mind now though, and I remember enough to reconstruct some of it if I need it, and I'm sure I can count on you guys to fill me in on the rest. I'm also have prior experience with archery; I'm horribly out of practice, but I remember a fair bit of it, and I've worked with compound and recurve bows both. If they haven't developed the recurve bow yet here, I will.

My final, and most likely most potent ability of significance, is that I read people, and I read them _damn_ well. Crawling inside of people's heads and figuring out what they're thinking is a way of life for me. It's essential to effective communication, teaching, and if you want to be a good storyteller, three things which I value highly. I'm also passingly acquainted with being stealthy, something I intend to 'skill grind' as fast as I damn well can. I've never had any martial training, but I know the basics of keeping my balance centered, putting my whole body behind a blow, etc, etc.

Anyways, this town is called Tarsus, its one of the oldest settlements on a newly-discoved landmass in Tyrin, and I expect that as the population grows, its position at the mouth of a major river will make it a major port. I'll start asking around about other settlements, and the continent/island at large once I finish sending this message.

Also, I'll look for some leather or studded leather armor; I doubt chainmail will be affordable given metal's scarcity, and you actually have to know what you're doing with it to be effective in heavier stuff. I'm trying to decide whether or not I should attempt to sick the town guard on the facility I escaped from; for all I know they're in cahoots, and I _don't_ want to get into another fight until I've had more time to heal, and get better equipment. Or, you know-

Shit. Somebody just tried to cast a spell on me; Spell resistance ate it, but it's time for me to _move_.

Thoughts; go to town guard, yes/no?

((()))

_ROB's notes: I _like_ your idea, Quincy! It needs a little touching up here and there, a little more detail, but some Iron would shake things up nicely._

_For the rest of you speculative lot, it needs to be a challenge that isn't just a natural part of the world. I can nudge a couple thugs along to lay in wait in a certain area, or whisper in a bandit's ear that a particular caravan would make a juicy target, but things like disgruntled innkepers are perfectly natural occurrences, and not really worth a reward. Now, a disgruntled innkeeper who spots that our cute little PC has something he wants to hide, and tries to blackmail him into being a wage-slave, now _that's_ something worth me putting a few thoughts in the innkeeper's head, and seeing how the scenario plays out._

_Be a bit more creative, like Quincy there! Meteoric Iron; think outside_ _of the box like that! I'm disappointed with how repeatedly mundane things have been! A few 'tweaked normal' experiments here and there are good, but I decided to conduct my tests involving you lot because you are all supposed to be noted for the extra-ordinary._

_After all, 'normal' science is boring, we need to push the envelope!_

((()))

_Note from ROB: Vlad, Green, I think I'll take your similar ideas and combine them nicely; I'll send a little tip-off to the nearest Druid about those terribly rude researchers in Tarsus, and who they work for. I'm sure that'll make things... __interesting_.

_LF is still busy evading pursuit, so I'll leave it until he's finished making it to a safe place_ _to give everyone more time to contribute ideas._

_As to the politics, I suppose I can let you all know this much; most of Tyrin is run by a variety of feudal systems, with the nobility forming various power blocs. __Very__ few noble families have worked magical blood into their lines, and magic users are in general rare and reclusive enough that they provide little more than support and sometimes magical items to political struggles. They are around enough that all noble houses that prosper train their members to resist compulsion magic._

_The only groups of magic users substantial enough to be considered a power bloc, are the Bard's Guild, and the Druids. The Bard's Guild don't play with politics, and mostly exist as an order to train __new bards, and act in concert against anyone who kills one of their members. The Druids are very reclusive and secretive, and only really involve themselves with politics amongst the various races when someone is trying to wipe a species out, locally or on a large scale. You might not like those wolves raiding your sheep herds, and the Druids don't mind if you kill them when they attack, but if you try to organize hunting parties to wipe the local wolf packs out..._

_Balance and all that, you know? If I tell you all much more now though, that would ruin the experiment._

_Anyways, one last little bit, in order to keep things simple; I'll alternate magical and mundane bonus challenges, so since the last bonus was the thugs, I'll use the magical rivalry one next, and then we'll give LF a chance to take up the caravan escort mission._

_Like I said earlier, more input welcome until he makes it to a safe haven!_

_ROB, we're done here._

((()))

AN: This chili is missing something.

((()))

I made for the forest, ASAP, after the first spell was eaten by my SR. The second spell, an hour later, unfortunately got through my defenses. Speed, however, was my ally, and I'd been careful to choose a stable for a hideout that was close to the river in the first place. It took a while to cross the river, due to its sheer breadth, and it washed me halfway back out to the bay in the process, but once I reached the cliff, climbing that barely took a minute.

While I wouldn't wish the process involved in getting them on anyone, there's no arguing about the benefits of the enhancements worked into my flesh. I've always been a good climber; being able to lift my body-weight without much strain with a single arm has only made me that much better. I was well into the forest by the time the second spell hit, and the canopy was easily high enough that there was no chance of them seeing more than 'trees, and spell target' if it was a scry spell. Which I was pretty damn sure it was; none of the casters I saw in there were pulling off high-level spell tricks, and Scry is the lowest level spell with any real chance at picking me up.

So, operating assumption that they knew I was in the forest, which made this a game of hide and go seek, except at the start of the game there was only one hider, and an unknown number of seekers. I was glad I had the clubs, because in all seriousness, dogs would be one of the largest threats to me at this point. I had a half hour head start, and while magic could make up for a lot of speed, very few spells at low level gave enough speed over _duration_ to make up that much ground. And considering that I'm actually in good shape, that means a 16-18 Con, and I doubt they've got that much...

Nevermind. They might have speed enhancing items. Time for me to focus on moving faster.

((()))

It took them nine hours to do it, but they tracked me down. I thought I lost them when I followed a stream all the way to the coast and night fell with no visible sign of pursuit, but they started scrying me again, and the second one one broke through my defenses. I was glad I had stopped bleeding in my lungs before this chase started, because I can tell you that there's no way I would have been able to keep up the pace I did otherwise.

They caught up with me at a Dolmen (a small standing stone formation for those of you not familiar), and I immediately began to suspect ROB-interference, because it was just _too_ damn convenient for them to catch me just as I found a _Druid_.

There were four of them, one on foot with a bow, I was guessing a Ranger, and three on horseback, two wearing chainmail shirts, with shields strapped to their backs, and one that I recognized as one of the mages from the lab. The Druid was wearing a robe of woven leaves, carried an oaken staff, and had a brown bear seated beside him.

When I burst into the small clearing the Dolmen stood in, the Druid eyed me curiously; when the came in after me, his glare turned _entirely_ hostile. I don't know if I have _ever _seen as much hatred as I did in that man's eyes, including in the eyes of the test subject whose death had incited my escape attempt.

"_Sravit,_" The Druid spat, and then all hell broke loose.

I dove out of the way as the Mage and the Druid both began incanting, ducking under the Dolmen and twisting around to look out for spells coming my way. The Druid finished his spell first, and I caught my first glimpse into just how deadly D'n'D magic _really_ is. A column of fire slammed down on the three horsemen; all of them desperately trying to dive out of the way, and meeting with only marginal success. The blast of flame killed the horses instantly, and seared the three riders badly; I could smell and hear their flesh cooking from here.

They were _hard_ men though, and were advancing again, on foot, as soon as the wash of flame had passed; the Mage completed his spell, a Haste spell apparently, as the lot of them abruptly accelerated. The two fighters rushed the Druid, drawing longswords and readying their shields as they did so, moving in efficient cohesion to break past the Druid's defenses and slash at him through his cloak; one of them took a smack from the bear as he whipped past, but the other got past unscathed.

The tracker/ranger drew on his bow, ready to fire, but waited, and I realized _very_ quickly that he intended to try to interrupt the Druid's spellcasting.

Well, we couldn't have that now, could we?

I exploded out from underneath the Dolmen at a full-out sprint, and body-checked the Ranger knocking him flying with my enhanced strength, before pressing on towards the Mage, hoping to land a hit on him before he got his next spell off; unfortunately I wasn't fast enough, and he got his second spell off. It immediately became obvious to me that it was a Hold Person spell, considering how every muscle in my body locked up and I tumbled flat onto my face, nearly breaking my nose in a painful face-plant. He'd probably meant it for the bear, but I ended up getting it instead.

Yeah, I wasn't having any of that. As roars and wet, slicing sounds came from the melee behind me, I mustered my will, snarled, and snapped the effect, just time to look up and barely avoid getting run over by a pair of bears (one a polar bear) bearing down on the Wizard. One smack put the already badly-injured Wizard down for the count, and the Ranger fled, the brown bear in hot pursuit.

Gasping, I rolled to my feet and stepped away from the polar bear, keeping him in my field of vision while I confirmed that the two soldiers were down for the count. The bear stared at me with intelligence far beyond human, and if I'd had any doubt the cloaked man was a Druid _before_, it was pretty much gone now.

For a long, tense moment, the Bear/Druid just glared at me, then it stood up on its hind legs, and rapidly shifted back into human form.

I cannot even _begin_ to describe to you, just how _strange_ it is to watch a bear turn into a man, especially a clothed man. Shrinking mass, retracting fur, spontaneously sprouting the fibrous material that made up his robes and cloak, his jaw and skull visibly restructuring themselves in a manner that looked _extremely_ unpleasant, his joints rearranging themselves, it probably would have made me naseous if I hadn't spent the last half-year of my life in the care of scruple-less magical researchers, and seen far worse.

At least with this, the man was intact at the end of it.

"Greetings, traveler," The man rumbled in a deep, earthy voice once the shift had completed, "Few entire the land under my stewardship bringing such a prestigious gift as my traitorous apprentice," He paused a moment, looking me up and down in more detail, "It would appear that he treated you with as much regard as he treated any other."

Pausing for a moment, he stepped over to the Mage's mauled corpse, and stomped on its neck, then again, and again, and _again_, until I heard a sharp snap as the spine broke. Then he pulled out a knife, reached down and sliced off the... well, yeah, no reproduction for _him_, and uttered a swift spell that set his hand ablaze, and incinerated the removed organ.

"I promised you, Travers," The Druid growled, "That your new 'friends' would not protect you from my promised wrath. I'm half-tempted to bring you back, just so that I can kill you again."

Then he turned his attention back to me.

"I owe you a great debt," He said, "That cur's treachery went deeper than you could know. How can I repay you?"

"If nothing else," I said carefully after a moment's thought, "I could use a safe place to rest, and a full meal. It's been less than a day since I escaped from his," I nodded to the corpse, "Research facility, and I need to recover."

"I will do this for you," The Druid said with a nod, "But that is nothing more than simple courtesy for an ally, and my debt to you goes far deeper than this."

((()))

_ROB's note: Well, what do you know? The local Druid didn't like the local mages, who'd have thought? n_n._

((()))

AN: Arglebarglebarglebarg. Letting the dice make some decisions for me tends to break my narrative train of thought something fierce. More later tonight, though it might be late.

((()))

AN: Sorry about leaving out the SI's reaction to Quincy dropping word about Spellwarped in these posts, it just didn't really fit. The actual story content of this post is not that long, just so you're warned, but hopefully I'll have something more substantial up _late_ tonight.

((()))

When I woke up the next morning in the Druid's cave, there was a message blinking in my mind; '3,300 XP, level up! Take an intuitive class, or find a trainer!'

With the ROB's trollface appearing next to it. I really, really, _really_ wanted to curse the bastard right then, but there's little point to doing such, so instead I rolled out of bed and went out to the stream near the cave, to satisfy the need for both fluid in- and out-take. That taken care of, I turned to find the Druid sitting above the Cave's entrance, watching me with patient eyes while he smoked a pipe. We had spoken at length last night, first over a meal of berries and smoked venison, then on until I had more or less dropped from exhaustion. He had healed both of our wounds as well, a mildly euphoric experience; the sight of his ribs, exposed by one of the soldier's sword-blows, was kind of sickening to me, mostly by how much I _didn't care_ about it. After the number of times I've seen human innards on display, including my own, it has pretty much no effect on me anymore.

"So, Outworlder," The Druid said, "Have you decided what you would have of me?"

"It would seem appropriate," I said slowly, "Or perhaps ironic, that after leading your traitorous apprentice to you, I would replace him. Well, in a _non-_traitorous manner."

"It is no small thing you ask," The Druid said, "For _either_ of us. It takes _years_ to complete the basic training of a Druid, and even then one must have the mind and spirit to understand the more primal things of reality."

"I know, old man," I replied, staring him in the eyes, dead serious, "But if there's one thing I'm committed to, it's to understanding life at the most basic level. I may not be of a temperament to live out in the wilds full time, but as anyone who has known me when I'm not holding myself in check can tell you, I bring the primal with me anywhere I go."

"Very well then, Outworlder," The Druid said, "I will take you as my apprentice; I pray that we do not both come to regret it."

((()))

AN: I hadn't originally intended for Druid to be the first place to take this SI, but as the ROB-post explained, Druids were the only real magical faction that could function as a rival in the scenario suggested on the thread, and I'd already decided that they were going to have a hostile relationship with the faction that was conducting tests on the SI.

To keep from boring everyone (including the writer) with the first few levels of a character being mostly useless, this'll be the last post before a time-skip of a couple years, during which the SI will gain 2-3 levels. Haven't decided on all the details yet.

In the meantime, I'm open to suggestions for the general background/character for both minor/mid-boss antagonists for the SI to run into, as well as potential adventuring companions. If you want to suggest either, suggest a _character_ as well as a class or build. A few more setting details for those interested to work with:

Humans originate from a different continent than the other standard D'n'D races; regular shipping back and forth (and thus diplomacy and trade) has only been established in the last fifty years. Some backwater places don't really believe the stories about elves, dwarves, etc, yet. Dragons were the only other fully sentient race humans knew about before making contact with this other continent.

This newly-settled landmass that the SI on is another continent that was settled about the same time as contact began with the non-human races, and is notable for having _no_ known native sentient races, not even Dragons. Its total size isn't known, but nobody (except maybe the Druids, and they aren't talking) has been more than 100ish miles in from the coast, the southern reaches run into polar ice, and the northern haven't been circumvented by sailing vessels yet, only two attempts have been made, and no-one knows what has become of them.

Again, no divine-powered classes (except for Druid-types), and no arcane magic that a character isn't born with. Mostly that means no Wizard or Wu Jen, but I'm sure there are other ones as well. I'm treating all spontaneous arcane casters, fluff-wise, as basically Sorcerers who specialized in what they do with their magic. So in-world, a Beguiler, a Warmage, and a Duskblade would all be called Sorcerors. Bards are the only exception, and that's largely because they have so much information control.

Psionics, Incarnum, ToB, and anything else that has supernatural abilities will exist as well, but they're _very_ rare, and probably poorly understood by anyone not a part of the community.

((()))

AN: This took a bit longer than I thought, but it's time for the story to truly engage; meaning, _character interaction_. Well, starting next post, ideally; this one will be catching things up after time-skip.

((()))

It's been two years, on this end, and they were rough. I'm sworn to secrecy involving how Druids form the most fundamental level of their bond with the natural world, but I can say this much: it involves getting up close and personal with the most primal forces in creation, and they _aren't_ pretty. Awe-inspiring, breath-taking, awesome and terrible, but _not_ pretty. The primal forces of nature don't care if you're there or not, don't care if you're young, old, sick, healthy, they just do what they do, and if you get in the way, you might get run over.

The Old Man though (he still won't tell me his real name), finds the uncaring forces of nature infinitely preferable to the 'safety' of civilization. Nothing can be cruel like a human can, and I could tell he was speaking from personal experience when he told me that it's the ones that people claim to love, that they hurt the most. Based on my own experiences, I can't say that I disagree; the only difference between me and the Old Man, is that I still hold hope to make things better, and he's just settled for stepping in when things get completely out of control, and the only way to stop it, is for someone to die.

He's called me a fool more times than I can count, but I've long since decided that some things are worth fighting for, even if you can never win. That's part of why I'm leaving his tutelage; I want to go change things. And, you know, maybe try to find a way back home. I've been able to use second-circle spells for about two months, and being able to conjure what amounts to a Lightsaber made out of fire, I have to say, has boosted my confidence in my ability to lay down pain on anyone foolish enough to try and hurt me. If the half-ton wolf that's six feet tall, has teeth the size of a steak knife, and a growl deep enough to make your bones vibrate wasn't enough of a hint not to mess with me.

I call him 'Chuckles,' for the sound he makes when I give him a good petting; he's my animal companion. It says a lot about your life when the most comforting thing to come around in a number of years is a thousand pound killing machine.

Oh, and by the way, the ROB's little level-up message? A damn lie; it's still blinking away in the back of my mind, and there's nothing I can do with it. This world works a lot more realistically than that; you learn things when you damn well study them, or train in them. Means I can't break the system like I'd like, but there are upsides too. The magic I've learned only vaguely resembles that of Jack Vance; I have to 'prime' the structures for the spells I want to use for a day, but there's no 'spells per day,' just how much I've got the magical stamina to use, and just like with physical exertion, rest restores my stamina, whether it's eight hours of sleep, two hours, or fifteen minutes between spells.

Probably the single most important thing the Old Man taught me after my base Nature Bond formed, was how to craft magical items. A long, incredibly time and energy consuming process, but he's firmly of the belief that the rewards far outweigh the costs, and considering my meta-knowledge of the D'n'D mechanics, I have to agree.

Enough rambling, it's time for me to get moving, the Old Man won't be happy if I'm still here when he wakes up; I think he's bad with goodbyes.

((()))

Moving through the forest was pretty uneventful in and of itself; I've learned that there are some damn nasty predators farther inland, but here near the coast, there's nothing stupid enough to mess with a Druid and a half-ton wolf. I was heading back to Tarsus; there wasn't really much of anywhere else for me _to_ go right now, and most likely enough time had passed that nobody would connect the Druid with the giant wolf with a single stranger who'd been in town two years ago.

That ended up not being much of an issue, as other more pressing concerns presented themselves. West of the river, the side that Tarsus is on, is beyond the range that the Old Man considered under his stewardship, and as such, bandits had been a growing problem as the regional population increased. Technically, this entire area was part of some Duke's estate, but he couldn't be bothered to send armsmen to root out the bandits, so long as his tax income didn't take a noticeable hit. From what little the Old Man bothered to say about the man, he'd probably send his soldiers after the town mayor and elders before bothering to go after the bandits.

So when I found an unarmed caravan on the road out of Tarsus, it was no surprise that the idiots had drawn the attention of bandits, and it looked like they were rather desperately trying to talk their way out of being butchered, and failing. I'm not much for bandits on general principle, so I decided to get involved; a quick application of the Barkskin spell on myself and Chuckles prepped things up, then I hopped on his back, and we slunk out of the forest onto the road behind the dozen bandits.

"Ho there!" I called harshly, "What's the problem here?"

That got everyone's attention fast, and the bandits immediately shifted to a posture confrontational towards me, pretty much ignoring the caravan they'd been harassing before. Considering that not a man, woman, or child amongst those I could see was armed in any way, that wasn't really surprising.

"Who the hell are you?" The beefiest of the bandits, and most likely their leader, demanded, hefting a tin greataxe threateningly.

"The Old Man called me Outworlder," I replied flatly, pausing to mutter a swift incantation and twitch my left wrist, conjuring a flaming scimitar, "Who the hell are _you?_"

"I'm The Bear," He said, and I could hear the capital letters, "And these are _my_ woods, mage. Get lost before I take your head off."

What an idiot. I couldn't make it much more obvious that I'm a Druid if I _tried_, and he was picking a fight with me. True, he did have ten men backing him up, but...

Right. Just because I spent the last two years working closely with a Druid, doesn't mean these idiots are aware of just how dangerous magic really is. Might even think the flaming sword is an illusion. Well, time to muck out a bit more of the shit in this world.

"Well, boob," I said, stepping in front of chuckles and into a defensive stance, "These are _my_ woods now, and you can either get lost, or I'll feed you to Chuckles here."

The rage that cropped up on his face was strangely gratifying, his cohorts charging me in a screaming mass at a gesture from his axe less so. Hunching down, I backed up slightly, preparing to meet the bandit's charge with my fiery blade, while Chuckles prepared to maul them. It was a tactic that the Old Man had trained us in, and I was about to see just how effective it actually was for the first time.

The rest of the bandits were wielding what looked to be wooden axes with tin-shod edges, and their eyes made it clear just how little they cared about the lives of anyone but themselves. They'd become little more than disgusting predators, casting off their ability to reason and make something better out of themselves, for the most basic of instincts: The strong prey upon the weak.

Unfortunately for them, Chuckles is more of a predator than they would ever be. The first two that came in range of his jaws learned this the hard way, taking a savage bite to their shoulders; Chuckles could have sunk his jaws in and torn them apart, but we had a better plan. He only held down long enough to hurl them off balance, throwing them back into their compatriot's path, blocking half of them from closing enough to land a blow against either of us, and almost knocking some of them down. One bandit wove between the two flying bodies, and took a swipe at me, but I was more than ready, and ducked out of the way.

A few of the bandits did come around on Chuckles' sides, but only one got enough force behind his blow to actually hurt Chuckles, and that just pissed him off.

Then their charge was spent, and it was _our_ turn. I laid into the bandit who'd slipped in close with my blade of fire, but he was sharp, and caught the blow on his axe. Sharp, but not smart, the blazing sword sliced through the axe's haft like it wasn't even there, and the man dropped the pieces as the blade superheated them.

Chuckles turned his attention to the bandit that had actually managed to hurt him, even through the spell I'd laid on his already-tough hide, seized his primary weapon arm, and hurled the man to the ground.

Then the mess of men whose charge had been blocked by Chuckles bloody riposte sorted themselves out, and the whole thing devolved into a bloody brawl, blood, intestines, and seared flesh spattering everywhere. Ganging up on us, the thugs managed to rough us up a bit, but they were just the trash of society, trash by their own choice, and their weapons were almost as shoddy as they were, only a threat in numbers.

The only one who was really dangerous, was their leader, the king of a bunch of miscreants is still a king, and there's only one way to the top with these types, brute force. At some point, he realized that his thugs weren't going to be able to take us down by sheer weight of numbers, and charged into join the fight, spilling my blood with a heave of his axe in spite of its doubly-enhanced toughness. Things got ugly for a few moments there, the remnants of his band of cheap killers hemming me and Chuckles in while he carved me up; then I went for his axe.

The look on his face when that shoddy tin axe, still five steps above the crap his men wielded, came apart in his hands, filled me with a grim satisfaction. I doubt it'd even occurred to him that someone could do that to him, even though I'd done the same thing to one of his men less than a minute before.

One of the three other surviving bandits nearly took Chuckles out while I was busy with his boss, but I let him know what I thought of that with three feet of shaped flame, and Chuckles chimed in, taking the man's arm off, axe still in hand with a single snap of his jaws. The other two saw the falling night of their mortality in the dark blood dripping from Chuckles jaws, and tried to run.

They didn't succeed.

The 'Bear' realized he was alone, unarmed, and in front of the man and wolf that had killed his ten groupies about six seconds too late. He tried to go for one of the dropped wooden axes, but chuckles showed him what a _real_ forest predator is like, by going for the throat. I'll give the man this, he was tough, and took one more swipe at me before we killed him, maybe hoping that with me out of the picture the wolf would back down. It was a panicked blow though, I could see the fear in his eyes as he realized just how fast the hunter had become the hunted, and I was too wary at this point to let it land.

By the end of it all, they'd carved us both up good, but we were still alive, and I _was_ a Druid. I broke out the pouch of healing-infused berries in my pack, and took the edge off the pain. Wound closed, a nearly-severed rib healed up, and perhaps most importantly of all, the energy surge from the healing would keep me from getting the shakes as the adrenaline wore off.

I'd killed sentients before, on two occasions. Once when escaping the lab, and the second time when the two thugs tried to take me in the alley. Both had been purely self defense, and I hadn't stuck around; this time, I'd provoked the fight, it had lasted for more than a few seconds, and it had involved _blades_, which mean I was covered in blood, guts, and other bits of human detritus. When it caught up with me, things weren't going to be pretty.

There were things to do first though; I sprinkles a couple dozen berries onto the dead bandit leader that Chuckles was messily eating; he was used to receiving them as treats, and would make sure to eat them all, healing him of the worst of his injuries. Then I turned my attention to the caravan I had been fighting to protect in the first place.

It was pretty obvious they'd never seen a real fight before, every last one of them was staring at Chuckles and me in horror, except for the kids whose eyes were being covered by their parents. Part of me squirmed at seeing the kids; I vaguely remembered being innocent enough to qualify as a 'kid,' that was pretty thoroughly beaten out of me by the end of my college years.

You don't need to see a war to see just how far man's inhumanity to man can extend. Dying on a battlefield, even slowly bleeding out, is a matter of hours of pain at the most, barring the extreme exceptions. I've known people though, that were the products of a lifetime of debasement, almost always by their family, and I'd call that crueler than death any day.

"Sorry you had to see that," I said gruffly as I approached the caravan leaders, dismissing my flaming sword as I did so, "Any of you hurt?"

((()))

AN: Cutting it off there, need some creative down time before I push it further. Any suggestions for people to encounter, _serious_ suggestions, would be quite welcome at this point.

((()))

"N-no," One of the men said, then shook himself, and quickly walked up to me.

He was a tall man, with the muscles of a farmer, though he was lacking the usual tan, and a beard to do an Amish proud. His hands were shaking a little, but there was a steadiness and determination to his eye that I could respect, especially for someone who'd had their first real dose of violent, bloody, death.

"What about _you?_" He asked, looking me over with about the last thing that I expected, _genuine concern_.

"I'll be fine," I said, struggling not to sound dismissive; people displaying signs of concern makes me _wary, _"I'm a Druid, I know how to deal with it. Why are you out here unarmed?"

His jaw clenched, anger flared in his eyes, then was gone just as quickly.

"The Duke," He said, his tone painfully cool, "Forbade us from traveling armed through any portion of his territory, which specifically informed includes everything within ten miles of Tarsus."

Figures. Duke was pretty much signing their death warrants with that order, considering he _had_ to know that bandit activity on the new continent was on the rise.

"Bandit activity around Tarsus has been on the rise for the last three years," I told him flatly, "The Duke was trying to get you killed. What did you do to piss him off?"

"We are worshippers of Eru," He said, "The Divine Fire, Creator God, something that the Duke's allies amongst the corrupt priesthoods of the false gods will not tolerate."

That was a bittersweet mix of Tolkien and the Mayflower story, though it sounded like the Duke had taken more of Melkor's course of action than the British government's. We were only two miles upriver from Tarsus; if bandits were encroaching in this far, things were worse than I'd thought.

"What brings you to the new continent then?" I asked, "This isn't exactly the easiest place to reach."

"Freedom to practice our faith," He said, "Without demagogues constantly attempting to roust mobs against us. The King may have declared a law of freedom, but few seem to respect it."

I looked past him, to the caravan. There were perhaps a dozen carts, some of them covered, and at least a hundred people, though most of them were adolescents or children. Maybe two dozen looked like men fit to fight, with twice that number of women and older children I'd consider possibly viable militia.

Dammit, they were freaking _pilgrims_. Leaving them alone would be leaving them to die, and I couldn't do that.

"My name is John," I told the man, reaching out with my left hand, the one _not_ covered in blood and guts, "I am young yet, as Druids go, but I will try to see you safe through to a place where you can settle."

"I appreciate it," The man said, taking my hand and shaking it firmly, "My name is Neb, and I am the mayor amongst our community, even if we have no town of our own just now. How can we repay you?"

"You have a smith or a carpenter amongst you?"

((()))

"Not much of a conversationalist, are you?" One of the older women amongst the caravan asked me early the next day.

We'd put another few miles behind us before the end of the day, and had been up with the dawn, a quickly cooked breakfast fortifying those who weren't sleeping in the wagons before we set out again. A couple of the older men had spoken with me a little, but it was fairly obvious that the men, and particularly the women, were keeping the children well away from me.

Considering the smell of human blood and guts I hadn't had the opportunity to wash out of my clothing until this morning, I hardly blamed them. Now though, one of the women who looked like she was somewhere in her mid-forties, with gray beginning to tinge her dark hair, had approached me where Chuckles and I walked alongside the column.

"Depends on who you ask," I told her, "Some people go to great length to avoid having to listen to me."

"Oh?" She saiid, a note of wry humor in her voice, "Why would that be?"

I held my peace, looking up and down the caravan beside me for a few moments before responding.

"Neb," I said, nodding towards the front of the caravan, "Your leader. He is in a position of authority, and is responsible not only for making decisions that could see you all killed or safe in a new home, but also setting an example for everyone."

"Yes," She said, apparently to be patient while I got to my point.

"I read people," I continued, "I've learned a lot of survival and nature lore, and I am no stranger to a fight. If I think he's making stupid decisions that will get people killed, or set a bad example for the munchkins, I'll call him out on it. He wouldn't be the first person, and I have to tell you, I'm hard pressed to remember a time when a leader _didn't_ let their pride do their thinking for them, rather than consider what was best for the people they were responsible for, when I challenged them."

"Hm," She said thoughtfully, "I can see where that could cause a lot of friction, especially coming from a stranger," Then she smiled, "Still, speaking the truth is to be valued, even if it has unpleasant consequences. I'm Lyn, by the way, I hear your name is John?"

"Yeah," I said, looking at her slightly askance, "That's me."

"And your wolf?" Lyn pressed.

"Chuckles," I said, patting the wolf affectionately, who nuzzled me in response, "Combination guardian beast, warm blanket, and rambunctious puppy. Also could probably serve as a pack animal, if I ever had need of such."

"How is he with children?" Lyn asked.

"I don't know," I said, "He's never really been around them before. He won't attack unless one of us is attacked, or I tell him to, though."

"Good," Lyn said with a nod, "The children will be curious. We can try to keep them away if you wish, but sooner or later one of them will slip away."

"Probably best we let them acclimate to each other," I said, "Less likely there'll be trouble that way."

Lyn nodded.

((()))

AN: Character interaction stuff is getting slower as I try to mentally establish the personalities of the various characters. It should pick up once I've got a better handle on who they are.

((()))

Over the next few days, there was little to do but talk while the caravan moved, and Lyn seemed to make a deliberate effort to get me into chatty moods. I was careful with what I told her, didn't want her taking me to be crazy, so telling her about the technology of Earth without a demonstration was out, I didn't want her prying into my personal past just yet, at least from before I came to Tyrin, and I was sworn to secrecy regarding my years of Druidic training, so the available topics for me to talk about were pretty narrow.

Mostly, we talked about parenting. Her children were fully grown, with kids of their own now, not surprising considering the earlier ages weddings usually took place at, but she had a sharp memory, and that rare commodity, common sense. I was hard pressed to not start ranting on the subject, as it's something I'm pretty damn passionate about, but the Old Man had forced me to see that it could turn into a form of 'Villain Monologue' if I didn't check myself more often. Instead, I only said enough to keep her talking, and let her show her character by how she spoke of her children.

The fact that she was willing to talk about the mistakes she'd made as a mother, and that her husband had made before he'd died, as well as the decisions she thought right, said a lot about her. Mostly, that she was too good for this world, and her kids were _damn_ lucky to have her for a mother. Also rather telling about her character, she _didn't_ ask about my mottled complexion. Maybe she just assumed it came from being a Druid.

During the evenings, after we'd stopped for the night, the group's carpenter would show me a few tricks of the trade. Carpentry isn't actually all that complicated; shaping wood is fairly simple, but doing it _well_ takes skill. How to cut and split wood without splintering it, how to work with the grain, etc, etc. My augmented manual dexterity made it pretty easy for me to pick up; of course, I planned to cheat outrageously once we were in one place long enough for me to try for a beehive.

Neb also spent a little bit of time talking with me, asking me about which local plants were edible, which were poisonous, what dangerous predators were active in the area. So far, he was actually behaving like a competent leader, and I was begrudgingly impressed.

Starting on the second day, some of the kids started to approach Chuckles, and by the end of the day, they knew how he earned his name, and at least a half-dozen of the little rugrats were riding him at all times, rubbing, petting, and stroking his fur to make him chuckle, which would make them all vibrate. About as many of the adults were horrified, as were amused.

It was on my fourth day with the caravan that we ran into our second problem.

((()))

Goblins are ugly little bastards, with uglier dispositions, and the Wargs they ride are only worse. So when I spotted one of them making eyes at our caravan out of the woods, I knew trouble was coming. I waited until it backed off, no doubt off to summon more trouble, then moved up to Neb, and warned him we were probably going to be raided by Goblins within a few hours. He had us step up the pace, in hopes of finding a clearing where we could fort up, and lucked out about an hour latter with a large clearing, nearly a quarter mile across.

The wagons were circled, and weapons were passed out. It wasn't much; two bows that had been crafted during our night-time stops, the nine axes that'd been looted from the Bear's men, and a dozen tin-tipped spears the carpenter and blacksmith had put together. We were well past ten miles from Tarsus, and after my little scrap with the bandits, there was no way these people were leaving themselves unarmed, even if they were loath to accept violence.

One thing that became pretty obvious really damn fast, was that Neb was no kind of battle leader; fortunately, they had me on hand, and while I'd never commanded troops in battle before, I had been a leader, had been in fights to the death, and have a history of crushing almost all opponents at strategy games. Further, I'm the kind of guy who, even when playing computer strategy games, tries to complete each mission with as few losses as possible. It took some thinking back to put myself in the right mindset, but at least I wasn't going to need to rewrite my playbook in order to get half these people killed protecting the other half.

Didn't mean they were going to like all of my orders though.

"Neb," I called as I rode up to the man on Chuckles, "Take one of the spears, and show the children how to use it. I don't want them to, but it's better than them being completely helpless."

The look in his eyes made it clear that he did _not_ like the idea, but understood the reasoning of it.

"Vagyr," I called next, addressing one of the huntsmen in the group, "Gather up all the men, the women willing to fight, and the adolescents strong enough to hold a spear decently well, and bring them to me outside of the circle."

Then Chuckles turned and leapt over the circled wagons, and sat down while I thought. Everything would ultimately depend on numbers. If there were too many goblins, the only real chance would be to fight a suicide defense to kill as many of them as possible, then break out with the children while the adults played distraction by sending the horses and oxen that pulled the carts stampeding in the other direction. Considering just how many children there were, and I'd be their only real escort, odds were that that would turn out _very_ poorly. Most likely it would devolve to me getting out maybe a dozen of the smallest on Chuckles, while the rest were run down in the forest. Or...

Scratch that, better chances of running for the river, and letting it carry us away, if things were that bad. With some tree trunks wood-shaped into crude rafts or boats, getting the children out would be a lot easier; the Wargs could probably swim, but all the loot would be with the circled wagons, not the fleeing children, so it was doubtful the goblins would try to follow us into the water. That was the worst case scenario, barring ridiculous things like high-level casters backing the Goblins up.

As for less-dire circumstances, well, Vagyr and the others were approaching.

"Outworlder," He called, "What would you have us do?"

"Simple plan," I said, surveying the roughly four dozen able-bodied people he'd brought, "Best way to avoid it going wrong. Men take the axes, women take the spears. Plant the butt of the spear and point it at the little buggers; they're smaller, their reach will be inferior. I'll split you up into teams, one covering each gap between the wagons, with a mix of men, women, and adolescents. If someone gets injured, rotate in the adolescents, and I'll try to come by and provide healing.

"In the meantime, I'll be on Chuckles, moving to support anywhere it looks like they're rushing. Archers'll take targets of opportunity, but if you see any that look like shaman, or with more fancy clothing that _doesn't_ include armor, shoot them and tell me _immediately_. If there are any casters, they'll be the most dangerous of the bunch.

"If everything goes to hell, stampede the horses West, those left on the East side will try to breakout with the children, and take them to the River. Not the best chance, in the water, but better than being run down by Wargs in the forest. Any questions?"

There was a long moment of silence before Vagyr spoke.

"You've been in battle before, haven't you?" He said quietly.

"Not like this," I said, shaking my head sharply, "But I've trained for strategy and tactics extensively, and as you saw with your own eyes, I know how to handle myself on the battlefield."

"...Good enough for me," Vagyr said after a while, then helped me set about the business of dividing the men and women up into eleven combat teams.

Once we finished dividing them up, all that was left was the waiting for them, and for me, to prime my mind with spells more appropriate to the needs at hand.

((()))

I spent about half an hour in 'meditation' (not really how it's done, but again, Druid Secrets), prepping up my modified spell selection, put together a few more pit traps, then shifted to trying to get the followers of Eru into a solid war-chant. It took a bit, but once the kids got into it, they got the gist of it, even if they weren't much in the way of singers. I would have liked to spend more time on getting them psyched up, but didn't end up having enough time.

When the goblins did catch up with us about two and a half hours after we stopped, there were roughly thirty of them, armed with maces and javelins, except for about half a dozen which carried no weapons, and had blue fur. Something about that niggled at my memory, but I decided exactly what didn't matter. They were wearing better clothes, carrying no weapons, and no armor; that made them priority targets _whatever_ they were.

The instant that the pack of Warg-riding Goblins entered the clearing, Chuckles and I moved to place ourselves between the circle of wagons and the Goblins, casting Shillelagh as I moved. I raised my free hand and... paused for a moment. With a quick litany under my breath, I cast Produce Flame, wreathing my raised fist in fire, then called to the followers of Eru.

"Begin the chant!"

_Stomp-Stomp-Clap_

"_Naare O Firya!" _The children cried, the adults not speaking for some reason.

_Stomp-Stomp-Clap_

"_Naare O Firya!"_ The children cried again, and this time, I joined my voice to theirs, while the adults stared, startled at the flames covering my hand.

_Stomp-Stomp-Clap_

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_ All of them now roared, and I felt a fire rise in my _own_ chest, and I could see it in their eyes.

_Stomp-Stomp-Clap_.

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_ We roared as one, and I turned to face the goblins, whose advance had slowed slightly.

Better for us, they had pulled in to a tighter group, surprise at the unexpected spirit of resistance facing them causing them to feel tremors of fear.

"_Inras_, _dru Kon!"_ One of the blue-furred goblins shouted, and the Goblins began to advance.

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_ I roared, unleashing an Entangle spell, then spurring Chuckles into a charge myself.

The Entangle spell incited the simple grass of the clearing to sprout into virulent growth, which leapt up to seize the Wargs, and the Goblins riding atop them.

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

It seized _every last one_.

My heart leapt in my chest; this just went from a perilous battle, to a chance at _crushing_ victory.

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

The eyes of the Blues glowed, and my mind exploded into pain as psychic attacks slammed into my mind.

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

I roared all the louder, nudged Chuckles into a leap as we neared the Goblins front ranks, and cast Obscuring Mist as we descended, dousing the entire mass of Goblins in a chill mist. Panicked cries began to erupt all around me as I descended on their leaders, bu-

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

They were drowned out, even through the mist, by the roaring chant of my allies. Chuckles slammed down onto one of the Blues, his flaming teeth closing on the creature's neck, and crushing it instantly. I went for the Warg beneath it, lashing out with my magicked club, crushing one of its eyes as we landed.

The Wargs retaliated savagely, tearing strips of flesh out of Chuckles flanks, and the Blues attempted to assault my mind again, but-

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

-I was more prepared for them this time, and though my head hurt, it was nowhere _near_ enough to even slow me down, much less stop me, after what I had experienced in that damn lab, and I could feel a part of my mind instinctively seeking to defend Chuckles and myself.

Chuckles himself had determined that he was going to show the Wargs who the _real_ Alpha Male was, and seized the Warg I had already injured by the neck and began shaking it visciously. I helped him out with a rounding swing at the thing's neck, snapping its spine, which allowed Chuckles to tear its head the rest of the way off-

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

-and hurl it at one of the Wargs that had dared to wound him. The Wargs continued to try to fight, but the aggressively growing wild grass was continuing to tighten its grip on them, and only one was able to do any kind of damage, which earned it a _much_ more vicious counterattack from Chuckles, and a swipe from my club, though working around Chuckles head proved more interference than I could effectively work around at this point.

The Blues tried to assault my mind again, and this time, one broke through, sharp pain erupted in my right temple, and blood began to flow from my ear and nose-

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

-but the chanting was getting closer, and the blow with my club I laid out in response crushed _his_ skull like a melon, while Chuckles began to dominate the Wargs that remained close enough, and free enough from entanglement to even try to fight them, savaging one and kicking the other away when it attempted to bring its jaws to bear on him.

Another sharp pain in my head marked another of the Blues getting through my defenses, as the more experiences psychics began to figure out ways to get around my defenses, but-

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

-even as blood began to flow out of my other ear, and well up out of my eyes, I crushed another's skull, and they were dying _far_ faster than me. Chuckles took one more hit from the surviving two Wargs before-

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

-I finished off the remaining pair of Blues, killing them before they could break into my mind again, and after that, the battle devolved into chanting, roaring, screaming death, as Goblin after Goblin fell to my club, or Chuckles bloody maw, while their tougher Warg mounts either were torn apart, or ripped free of their bonds and fled off into the mist.

When the mists finally cleared, some minutes later, I found that the armed pilgrims had followed me in my charge at the goblins, and slaughtered the warband while it struggled against the bonds I had conjured to restrain them. My hand was still ablaze with supernatural fire, as I had cast the Produce Flame spell twice more during the fight, and many of their eyes were fixed upon it. A number of them had been injured in the fighting, but only one had died, and as I quickly moved to tend to the wounded, infusing vital energies into their bodies so that they would heal from their wounds in seconds, rather than days, they began to chant again, taking up the stamp and clap once more, this time with a note of victory.

_Stomp-Stomp-Clap_

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

Myself, I was just glad that the death toll on our side had been so low, and that I had listened to the advice of others, as the Entangle spell had proven the decisive advantage, and I had not even thought to use it myself.

"_NAARE O FIRYA!"_

_The Fire is With Us._

((()))

AN: That didn't go the way I expected, _at all_. _Every single Warg and Goblin failed their save_. With the 3d6 instead of 1d20 mechanic I'm using, that gave them decreased odds of making it, sure, but the Wargs at least had a decent _chance_. Especially since I effectively dropped the DC a bit to count for the lower dice range and probabilities. Then they failed all of their checks to attempt to escape too! I guess the Fire Pilgrims really _did_ have divine favor on their side...

Then with the Mist, and the pitiful rolls the Goblin Warband made against morale effects I calculated out for everything, the battle was pretty much a wrap. I'll make sure to ask you guys for advice more often; the chant is something that would have occurred to me eventually anyways, but not in time for me to have included it.

Oh, and no, the pilgrims won't start seeing the SI as some sort of deific avatar or anything. That is _not_ in the plan, at _all_.

((()))

When we returned to the impromptu wagon-fort, we were rushed by every single woman who hadn't been part of the combat team, and most of the kids. I was more than a little surprised when I was rushed by Lyn, given that I knew two of her sons and one of her daughters were amongst the caravan, which given the ages, meant at least the sons had been part of the combat team.

"I thought you were a healer!" She shouted somewhat breathlessly as she approached me, warily raising her hands towards my face.

I flinched, taking a full step back before I regained control of myself.

"I am," I said roughly, forcing myself to step forward again.

"Have you exhausted your magic then?" She asked, and I could hear 'frustrated parent trying not to be angry' all over her voice, "_Why are you bleeding from your eyes?_"

"Oh," I said, surprise overcoming my instinctive reaction to attempted physical contact, "I'd forgotten."

A quick mumbled Lesser Vigor later, and the burst blood vessels in my head began to rapidly close, Chuckles wounds likewise beginning to close. Her reaction was understandable; she had no way to know that I'd been forced to learn to functionally ignore pain if I wished to accomplish anything in the lab. Considering the developing horror in her eyes, probably wouldn't be the best to tell her about that any time soon.

"I will _not_ ask you about that right now," Lyn said, her voice strained, but she was attempting to be warm; her arm twitched, but she stopped herself from trying to touch me again, "I'm glad you are apparently well; I must now go and check on my sons. Who do _not_ have blood streaming down their faces."

((()))

It turns out two of the Goblins did manage to escape, probably by holding tight to their Wargs while the psuedo-wolves ripped free to flee. Most likely, it's better that way; they'll spread the word to any other Goblin warbands that _this_ particular group of humans are _not_ to be messed with. Once the post victory hubbub had died down, I led some of the men back go the battlefield, to loot the bodies. There was some initial disgust, but when I pointed out that not only could we benefit from whatever we recovered, we would be denying it to whatever goblins came to find the battlefield.

There was also a lot of grief over the dead man, a middle-aged farmer named Arin; I mostly stayed away from that, I never even spoke with him, and I don't see any real reason to be any closer to that kind of woe right now than I have to. I spent my time piling the bodies up and digging a fire break with Chuckles instead, so that they could be safely burned. I was regaining a second wind after all the spells and fighting tired me out; the goblins were hardly difficult to move with my enhanced strength, and Chuckles moved most of the Warg corpses.

I set the bodies alight around dusk, and when I rejoined the Fire Pilgrims, I found that they were having something between a Wake and a goodbye party, with laughter and tears, while Arin's body was burned. I suppose it didn't really surprise me that believers in a fire deity would practice cremation, but it still wasn't the prettiest sight; they'd wrapped him in a shroud, but that only went so far. After that, things mostly died down for the night, and after posting a watch rotation, we set down to sleep between the circled wagons.

To clear things up amongst those of you talking about working with metal, our group has a fair bit of recovered scrap tin from the goblin's weapons now, about twenty pounds. We've also got some miscellaneous silver. It's enough to experiment with, but not to get going full-steam on. Also important, I've earned enough trust at this point for the smith, Roikus, to reveal his greatest prize, and primary tool; a smithing hammer made out of _Aluminum_. The stuff is, literally, worth more than its weight in gold, but according to Roikus, it's the top-tier metal for making tools, and truly wealthy nobles will have armor made out of it, though that's _damn_ rare.

When we get to a place worth settling, I'd like some info on how to find Aluminum, Tin, or even Iron deposits. This continent is mostly unexplored, and we might find here what hasn't been found anywhere else. Also any summaries of refining techniques for Titanium and Aluminum; if it's at _all_ possible to make these metals more workable, I could start an industrial revolution based on that alone.

Finally, I think the Blues cracked something loose in my mind, as I'm starting to feel a new sort of energy at my disposal; hopefully it's Psionic something, as after that battle, It's been made pretty clear how much I need to up my game. I hate to do it, but I'm going to start to intensify my spell-training over other things, me functioning as a support caster will do these people more good than another melee combatant, as much as it goes against my nature to put myself in a support role when people are risking their lives on the front lines.

We also need more bows, badly.

((()))

The next day, I woke with a headache, and with sore muscles. I dealt with it, and Chuckles similar grumpiness, in the way that the Old Man had all but beaten into me; a long, punishing run through the forest. When I returned to the camp, the Fire Pilgrims were halfway through packing up, and Lyn came out to greet me when I emerged from the treeline.

"I'm glad you're back," She said warmly, "Some of us were worried you'd decided to leave."

I just shook my head in response, my breathing still somewhat labored for speech.

"You don't seem the type to leave without telling anyone," She said, "Even if you never said how _long_ you would protect us for."

"Unless something more pressing comes up," I said between deep breaths, "I intend to stay with you until you are better able to protect yourselves."

"That's uncommonly generous," Lyn said, some surprise in her voice, "I thought Druids believed in predator and prey, the strong preying on the weak."

"Then why do you think I've stayed with you so far?" I asked, carefully restraining the instinct to take offense.

"Well," Lyn said carefully, picking up on the restraint in my voice better than I had expected, "The brigands were easily explained, as they were challenging you for dominance of your territory, most of us expected you to stay behind once we left your territory."

"And you?" I asked, and this time a harsh tinge did make its way into my voice.

"I've been reserving my judgement," Lyn said, "All the Druids I've heard of back on Astur, and some of those _were_ stories from the person who dealt with them personally, _did_ think like that. On the other hand, you didn't have to confront those bandits just as they were about to attack us, and you don't talk like someone who doesn't care about what happens to people who are 'weak' either."

"_Damn _right I don't," I growled, turning away from her, because I didn't want her thinking I was angry with _her_, "It's no kind of man that just abandons those in need when he can help."

"Too true," Lyn said with a gentle, wistful smile, "I wish more men, were _men_. Come on, get something to eat before we leave."

((()))

In spite of the funeral, the general mood amongst the Fire Pilgrims was bright, cheerful even.


	18. Dead Adventurers Don't Wear Plaid short

((()))

In spite of the funeral, the general mood amongst the Fire Pilgrims over the ensuing days was mostly upbeat, aside from the dead man's immediate family. Victory in battle, especially with such light losses, was a heady thing, and I wasn't immune myself. I suspect that part of why it affected them so strongly related to how the Duke had treated them; stripping them of arms and driving them from their homes.

The day after our battle with the Goblins, we reached the last outpost of civilization for one heading inland from the coast, a small, fairly grotty outpost/village that existed off the trade of trappers, and the occasional prospector, though none had found anything of consequence yet. There wasn't much to it, a couple of inns, maybe a dozen houses, a watchtower, and a whorehouse. One thing I shared with the Fire Pilgrims, was a desire to leave the place behind quickly; it stank of ill flavor, even if it wasn't actually hostile, and the trappers were more than smart enough to pay me respect.

I set up shop in one of the inns for a little while, offering a few coun for word of the terrain farther inland, specifically including rivers and potential metal deposits. The coin I paid with, by the way, was the equivalent of pennies; a fairly cheap gold/tin mixture; in case I haven't made it clear yet, silver is worth more than gold here, because it's a _useful_ metal. I also distributed some appropriate Druidly advice: _don't_ trap or hunt a species to extinction in an area. Not only will it hurt your trade in the long run, you'll get Druids gunning for your ass for wrecking the local ecosystem.

After a single night at the outpost, which didn't even merit a name beyond 'The Outpost' yet, we pressed on further inland. Some of the trappers said a prospector had found a Tin deposit about sixty miles upriver; it just wasn't worth a mining company's time when it was more than a hundred miles from civilization, but it would be an incredibly useful resource for the Pilgrims in establishing their own settlement. Unfortunately for the caravan as a whole, the outpost was also the end of the road, and our pace dropped from roughly twenty miles in a day, to something more like five.

Lyn spent the next week deliberately socializing me, working on a family by family basis. Her mode of operation was fairly simple, she struck through Chuckles. Chuckles, like any canine with a companionship relationship with humans, was a sucker for treats, and Lyn fed him several hunks of seasoned meat at dinner every day after the caravan stopped. Extending this into a standing dinner invitation, with Chuckles already attending, effectively made my attendance mandatory. After that, she simply invited another family to join us every night, starting with those I'd already met.

The first was Vagyr and his family; seeing the burly huntsman with his wife was jarring, not only was she more than a foot shorter than him, but she also had an exceptionally youthful face; she could have passed as his daughter, if he'd been a father at sixteen (not an entirely implausible thing in this culture). They only had two children thus far, a three year old son, and an infant daughter; the boy, Chalt, spent most of the meal climbing all over Chuckles, while Millie spent the entire time being held by one of the other three adults around Lyn's small fire. He was a competent hunter, she was a pioneer housewife; he made his own arrows, she wanted a small group of sheep of her own to feed her near-obsessive knitting habit. There wasn't really much else to them; it doesn't make them less as people, just so far removed from who and what I am, that it would take active effort for me to forge a meaningful connection with them. I know how to do such things, but unless I decide to _stay_ with their settlement, I doubt I will have the time.

The second family was one of the glassblowers, Grigor and Lilaya, with their two sons and four daughters. I never got all their names; mostly, that meal reminded me of helping my mother run the nursery at church back when I lived in the Middle East. Which is a rather jarring thing to be reminded of when you're literally in a different _dimension_, but I suppose it just goes to show that people are people, wherever you are.

After that, Lyn brought in less rambunctious families for me to meet, and by the time we reached the tin deposit two weeks later, I'd met more than half of the Fire Pilgrims at least once.

((()))

AN: Apparently, I didn't do _enough_ research. Expect to see more non-tin stuff showing up in story; I knew Tin was a crappy substitute, but I didn't realize it was _that_ crappy. Also, not very common. So basically, it's probably going to be 'there was a lot of Tin around Tarsus, which is why it was in common use there.'

((()))

Apparently, 'Tin deposit' also means 'Granite deposit,' and the Fire Pilgrims were a lot more excited about the Granite, than the Tin. Not much of a surprise once I saw what they started doing with it, and even more so once I started to help out.

Between helping the Pilgrims build their new town, mostly by working to erect walls around it with the aid of my own and Chuckles substantial physical strength, and spending as much time as I reasonably could with the smith, I was very busy. Helping him work necessary tools, and rework them after they failed through use, was a _lot_ of work, keeping the construction efforts reasonably supplied.

Then Winter came, and most of my time was diverted to managing the Fire Pilgrim's hunting. They were a transplanted farming community, and had spent the year travelling, rather than farming, and thus their provisions were critically low. Hunting was the only real source of food they had available, and it was more or less up to me to make sure that they neither starved, nor hunted any of the wildlife into localized extinction. It was this activity, that made me my first real enemy amongst the Fire Pilgrims; I suppose it wasn't surprising considering that I was restricting the food supply of hungry men, women, and children, but that made it no less unpleasant.

His name was Henry, and his argument was basically that, as an 'outsider and heathen,' I had been sent to weaken and corrupt the 'true believers.' To me, he sounded like a bad cliché, but to a few of the families, he made a dangerous amount of sense. The most aggressive he got was suggesting that rather than eating about as much as four men, Chuckles would be better suited to serve the role of 'food' himself. Neb shut _that_ talk up right quick, but the discontent remained.

When Spring arrived, and I started helping them clear land for farming, Henry pretty much shut up; early berries, nuts, and fruits, very quickly filled out the empty parts of the Pilgrim's diet, and my Druid spells let me down about as many trees in a day, as the rest of them combined. Stone and tin-sheathed wooden tools aren't the best for felling trees. I could tell he still had it in for me by the way he, or one of those who listened to him, kept an eye on me at all times while Chuckles and I were in the partially-built town. A hunter amongst his followers tried to track me into the woods a few times, but, like I said, _Druid_.

Things settled down as the year progressed, and I settled into a fairly regular schedule; two days a week with the smith, two working on the village walls (something that I was pretty much the only person working on, aside from a few curious children now and then, or some of the adolescents who were sent to hard labor with me as a disciplinary measure), one communing with nature, and the last two experimenting with Psionics.

So, first off, it turns out yes, Psionics is _exactly_ what I'd gotten my metaphysical 'hands' on, and unsurprisingly, it was going to change everything. Specifically, because I've created white astral goop, which I've at this point, confirmed is Ectoplasm, and successfully created my first Astral Construct, which I'm pretty sure makes me a Shaper. Shapers get the Psionic version of Fabricate as a level _four_ power, rather than Wizards and company getting the spell version at five. Plus, Ectoplasm in general has a great number of potential uses, the Astral Construct being the most notorious of them.

((()))

I've spent more than a year with the Fire Pilgrims at this point, and I finished the wall about halfway through this second Winter. It's only about twelve feet tall, and three thick, but it's made from granite blocks, and wraps around the entire village, with two large gates. There's not much more I can really pick up from the smith, and I've learned the basics from the Carpenter as well; as things currently stand, I plan to leave in the Spring. I've also built a beehive to the specifications you lot gave a while back, unfortunately, no bees have been recovered yet; I haven't really had the time to travel that far afield from the village.

((()))

AN: Oh hey look, I just ran out of momentum all over again! Goody. Oh well, hopefully I'll manage something more substantial next week...


	19. Ponies in SPAAAACE!

__So yeah. My Beta, he's a Brony. That's rubbed off on me some, and this is the result; a Sins of a Solar Empire/Ponies crossover. There's someone else on SpaceBattles who's taken a different approach to the same crossover, but I think it died a while back. Shame; it was a good story. Most of this has been sitting on my hard drive for more than a year, and it's slated to eventually be moved into its own story, but it's here now as a placeholder, while I work on the 4th short story for my original setting. Again, if you're enraged by me deciding to actually write something with Ponies, blame my Beta, this is almost entirely the result of his influence on me.

__((()))

_Skies of Equestria, roughly between Ponyville and Cloudesdale_

If there was one thing Rainbow Dash strove for above all others, it was _speed_. Pegasus magic could manipulate almost anything to do with air, or as scientists had been testing more recently, most any substance in the gas phase, as well as powering their wings, and between the two effects, allowed the flying ponies considerable speed and agility while airborne. Dash was more maneuverable than your average Pegasus, but only through long, hard training, as she'd originally been a bit clumsy.

Where her _real_ strength lay, was with _speed._ Dash still appeared clumsy in the air to some onlookers, but that was _solely_ to the speeds she customarily flew at. She had only been able to manage the Sonic Rainboom once in her life, a few years ago, and most of her free time since had been dedicated to trying to break the sound-barrier again. The Royal Aeronautic society at Cloudesdale had practically _begged_ her to do it again, but with a sensor rig strapped to her flanks so they could study _how_ she did it, what the atmospheric and optical distortions were like when they formed, and a whole lot of other mumbo-jumbo she didn't really understand. She wore the sensor rig during all of her flights now, though sometimes she was out so long that the batteries died.

So, between weather-managing shifts, Rainbow Dash _flew_. She flew fast, she flew hard, always pushing for the absolute highest speed she could manage. And she was faster now, faster than anypony she had ever met or raced with, and her _endurance_ and overall durability were phenomenal, but she still hadn't managed to breach the sound barrier. Not really gotten all that close, even; four hundred miles per hour was a hay of a lot faster than most ponies could get, but not even close to the speed of sound.

Or the speed of sound at average atmospheric pressure, the eggheads had told her, so she had started flying at different pressures, at different altitudes, to see if she could breach under different conditions. That had started a year ago, and Rainbow was frankly getting sick of it, especially since most of the researchers had taken to either haranguing her for not performing on demand, or begun to question whether she had ever really made a Rainboom at all.

Rainbow Dash scowled at the memory, and climbed higher into the night sky, burning for more altitude. She was the fastest Pegasus in Equestria, with, or _without _the Sonic Rainboom, and if the eggheads at the research station thought _they_ could do better, they were welcome to try. The only reason she was still working with the research team at all, was a _few_ of them actually _listened_ to her when she talked to them, and one of them had even arranged to get her into the Wonderbolt space program if she could achieve the Rainboom regularly.

Dash was sure there was some sort of psychological or philosophical lesson there, but that wasn't really her thing, so she just pushed herself to climb faster, and focused on the stars above her.

Specifically, she focused on one that was _moving_.

_I've never raced a shooting star before_, Rainbow thought, a grin growing on her face, _sounds like fun..._

Leveling out of her climb, Rainbow Dash banked South, towards Ponyville, to track the shooting star as it fell from the sky.

((()))

_Geosynchronous orbit of Equestria, ESA (Equestrian Space Agency) Orbital Station _Sisterhood.

"I think that's the end of it," Commander Sky Ring said, eyeing the sensor plot laid on the _Sisterhood's_ cramped bridge, "The survivors are pulling back towards Bellerophon."

The current shift of bridge-ponies all breathed sighs of relief. Thirty-six hours ago, they had detected alien vessels in dangerously close proximity to Celestia's Sun, orders of magnitude closer than any of the Pony-built spacecraft could possibly have survived at without the Princess' direct intervention. The closest sensor arrays, sitting in orbit of the system's third planet, hadn't been able to transmit much in the way of detail, but it was clear that there were two distinct forces, and one was pursuing the other. For an hour they'd moved around Celestia's dominion, accelerating and maneuvering at unbelievably high speeds.

It shouldn't really have surprised anypony aboard the _Sisterhood_ when the Princess herself called to let them know just what was going on; she did, after all, have a much closer perspective to watch from. There were two fleets, she informed them, consisting of three four primary different classes of vessel, the smallest of which were dependent on the larger two. Also, the larger fleet was chasing the smaller, and they were having a solid go at destroying each other.

The Princess also informed them that due to the apparent technological disparity between the newcomers and the Equestrian Space Navy, any one of the larger ships would be capable of completely wiping out any opposition the ESN attempted to present. The Commander was ordered to handle things in as utterly non-hostile a way as he possibly could, should the newcomers approach Equestria, and if they turned hostile, the Princess would deal with them herself.

Tension amongst the crew of the _Sisterhood_, as well as every other orbital installation, rose as three hours after they were first detected, the newcomers fleets, first one, then the other, appeared at Bellerophon, the system's largest gas giant, long before they disappeared from close orbit of Celestia's Sun. Which meant that both fleets were equipped with faster-than-light drives, and judging from their departure and arrival vectors, they were both limited by, and targeted to, gravity wells. The ESN had a survey team on one of _Bellerophon's_ moons, surveying for useful heavy elements, and the vessel that brought them out, the _Dainty Dish,_ had gotten a _much_ clearer view of the battle in progress, and relayed it to the _Sisterhood_.

Nopony had ever seen such destruction before, _ever_. The pursued fleet was based around a core of six enormous vessels, which Commander Sky Ring immediately began attempting to classify in comparison to the wet-navy vessels he was familiar with. He worked his way outward from the center of the fleet formation, categorizing them by the roll they played. At the core was a vessel that seemed like an overly large battleship with an unusual, vaguely triangular shape, but it didn't carry enough weapons to justify its mass, so he assumed it had some non-combat role that made it vital. Flanking the 'mothership' off of its port and starboard sides were a pair of gracefully curved carriers, heavily armed for carriers, but the sheer number of strike craft that came and went from the bays along its dorsal spine left no other option. Escorting the mothership from above, was a ship that looked a bit like a manta ray with its wings flared and tail swept down, and seemed a fairly straightforward battleship.

Paired and following from behind, a pair of ships shaped like flattened torpedoes covered the mothership's retreat, mounting heavy broadside weapons which were deployed by the ships weaving side to side regularly. Those two possessed greater speed than any of the others in their size class, and Sky Ring was uncertain as to whether he should categorize them as battleships, or battlecruisers. Almost a dozen smaller classes of vessel filled out the fleet, from a handful of small gunships that were destroyed swiftly, to five pocket carriers and half a dozen heavy combat vessels that would have seemed large, save for the battleships, carriers, and mothership that they moved with.

The second, larger fleet, was all brute force and right angles in comparison to the first fleet's graceful curves and sharp edges, and every ship in the fleet seemed to be built on a slightly larger scale. Of the eleven vessels that formed the second fleet's core, only four had readily identifiable roles. Two were clearly carriers, if poorly designed ones, by the large in and out-flow of strike craft from their bays. Two more were clearly battleships with heavy forward armaments, and reliable broadside weaponry. The other seven were horriffic mish-mashes of hull, armor, and weapons poorly designed for combat, ungainly in maneuvering, but simply large enough and thick enough to be effective in spite of their poor basic design.

The support vessels of the second fleet were of overall better construction, clearly built for the purpose they served, but still showing an overall philosophy of much heavier hulls, with thicker armor, but less acceleration and maneuverability than those of the first fleet. It was also easier to distinguish the smaller vessel's roles, a large brick-like ship being the fleet's primary heavy combatant, supported by a smaller craft with a 'tail' that projected at a downward angle from its ventral structure. Octagonal ships with vaguely arm-like projections sent swarms of small machines to repair hull breaches and damaged weapons, and a dozen pocket carriers helped round out the fleet.

The battle raged around the gas giant for almost an hour, but nopony was watching by the time the battle over Bellerophon ended, because the departing, and considerably reduced, fleets arrived near Equestria via their FTL drives before the non-FTL transmission from the _Dainty Dish_ relayed the end of the battle.

When the first fleet entered Equestria's space, arriving within the orbit of her moon, it was immediately apparent that it had lost more than the handful of lesser vessels Sky Ring had seen it lose at Bellerophon. The two trailing battleships were gone, as well as almost all of the smaller vessels save for the pocket carriers, and a single ovoid craft that seemed to be some form of support vessel. The second fleet was also substantially reduced, all of its pocket carriers destroyed, as well as a fair portion of its support gunships. Several of its core ships were also heavily damaged, and leaking atmosphere, but none were outright destroyed.

The instant that the first fleet arrived, it drove straight for Equestria, all surviving vessels falling into a rearguard position to cover the mothership. And as soon as the second fleet arrived, it burned hard in pursuit, breaking formation to send the smaller, faster vessels out ahead of its core vessels. Neither fleet had responded to hails, and once combat began anew, Sky Ring wasn't really surprised. The sheer amounts of radiation being thrown out by the engines, weapons, and shields of the two fleets was probably drowning out the _Sisterhood's_ comparatively pitiful communications equipment. And since they no doubt had drastically different types of equipment and communication protocols, the attempted contact would no doubt be easily missed.

Unlike the nearly hour-long running battle across the gas-giant's gravity well, which was an almost terrifyingly graceful progression of maneuver and counter-maneuver, the fighting over Equestria was as short as it was brutal. The brick-like vessels, combined with the octagons and smaller combat vessels, took a hellish beating when they pursued the surviving vessels without support from heavier vessels, but they kept the pressure on the first fleet as it approached Equestria, focusing all firepower on one of the carriers. Once the first fleet began to decelerate to make a close orbit of Equestria, things got really ugly.

Quite possibly the most terrifying thing of all, was that as the fleets closed, the unicorns amongst the _Sisterhood's _crew began reporting that they could sense large bursts of magic being deployed by the first fleet. Considering that both fleets were tens of thousands of kilometers away at that point, the amount of power it must have taken for the unicorns to notice at that distance was terrifying, but still, all they could do was watch.

The heavier ships of the second fleet did _not _decelerate, instead maneuvering for a swift pass against the first fleet at point-blank range, and a tight orbit of Equestria to come back around, rather than a direct approach and deceleration like the first fleet. As the first fleet decelerated on approach, the second fleet began to gain on them, and when the two met, all hell broke loose. By the end of the two minutes in which the two fleets were fully in weapons range of each other, both were at half, or less, the size they had been when arriving over Equestria.

The first fleet lost all of its pocket carriers, and one of the supercarriers, the massive ship erupting in a massive fireball that suggested an extremely volatile power source to Sky Ring. The mothership was pounded by merciless fire from all quarters of the enemy fleet, and displayed an astonishing durability, even as it disintegrated under the concentrated fire, breaking apart into large chunks rather than being destroyed altogether.

The second fleet lost far more for their troubles though, the intense beam weapons that formed a substantial part of the first fleet's armament having a considerably longer range, and therefore engagement envelope. The myriad of miscellaneous ships supporting the second fleets core vessels were almost completely exterminated, and the battle between strike craft was ended in the second fleet's favor. The second fleet also lost one of its own carriers, contributing to their ultimate loss of the strike craft engagement, and the first core vessel loss that Sky Ring had seen them suffer.

After the destruction of the first fleet's mothership, the change in the engagement's tone was sharp, the surviving carrier and battleship from the first fleet turning to engage the formation of bricks, tails, and repair spiders that had been harrying them since they entered the gravity well. With the second fleet's larger craft forced out of engagement range by their own built-up velocity, the detachment of smaller vessels had no support, and while they were faster than the first fleet's heavier ships, without the mothership slowing them down, the margin of difference was lethally small.

That engagement ended with the destruction of all of the second fleet's detached ships, but the first fleet lost its second supercarrier, and the battleship was heavily damaged. It could not even truly be called a fleet anymore, as all that remained was a single mutilated battleship, and the ovoid support vessel, both of which were now retreating out towards Bellerophon again.

The defeat and withdrawal of one side of the conflict would, however, do very little to protect Equestria from the debris their battle had left in her gravity well, much of it on a direct collision course for the planet's surface.

((()))

_Skies of Equestria._

Rainbow Dash knew that, in space, things traveled at speeds far exceeding the speed of sound in Equestrian atmosphere, but by the time the shooting star descended to her altitude, she was quite capable of keeping up with them. And _them_ it was, two shooting stars rather than one, and once they dropped to altitudes Dash was capable of functioning at herself, it became apparent that they weren't just rocks falling from the sky either.

They were _Space Ships._

And they were _Racing_.

This was _So Cool._

"There's _nopony_ in Equestria faster than Rainbow Dash!" Rainbow shouted, and blitzed after the pair of descending craft.

They were both moving near Rainbow Dash's top speed, and a part of Rainbow recognized that she'd be disappointed if it had been too easy, and both were still maneuvering, the larger chasing after the smaller. Grinning, she bore down on the vessels, their maneuvers robbing them of speed, and allowing her to catch up all the quicker. Once she closed enough, it became necessary to follow the two vessel's movements herself, and Dash quickly realized that the leading vessel's pilot was the better flier, even if its maneuverability was restricted for some reason. The pilot maneuvered with subtlety and precision that Rainbow Dash _dreamed_ about having, none of its turns very substantial, but a constant, ever-shifting chaotic sequence of flight that the second, larger craft struggled to imitate.

Then the pursuing craft fired a burst of supersonic projectiles at the leading craft, and Rainbow Dash's understanding of the entire situation changed drastically. This wasn't just a _race_, this was a _chase_, and from the look of things, a chase to the _death. _Guns, and really most weapons period, weren't very common in Equestria, but they _did_ exist, and now that she was looking for it, she recognized what were probably weapon mounts on the forward ship as well.

Rapidly re-thinking the situation, Rainbow's eyes narrowed. Both ships were steadily decelerating as they descended, which allowed them both better maneuvering, and Rainbow guessed that the lead ship was most likely already damaged, and making a forced landing. Judging by their evasive maneuvers, rate of descent and deceleration, they could touch down anywhere from the Everfree Forest, to Ponyville, to the Ghastly Gorge. Most ponies would only have cared if the ships came in too close to Ponyville, but Rainbow Dash had a friend who lived right on the edge of the Everfree Forest, and she wasn't taking chances with them getting anywhere _near_ Fluttershy's home.

Eyes steely with determination, the fastest flier in Equestria poured on the speed, and vectored towards the pair of ships.

((()))

_ESA _Sisterhood_, Geosynchronous orbit of Equestria._

"Sir," Lieutenant Gray Thumb said, flicking her mane out of her face as she turned to face Commander Sky Ring, "We've received a hail from the alien fleet."

Commander Sky Ring was standing in the center of the small bridge, staring at the sensor feed that showed the surviving division of the second fleet coming back around Equestria.

_Well_, he thought, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before responding, _This is where we find out just how messy this is really going to get._

"How's the linguistics package handling things?" He asked.

"It seems like they've got one of their own," Gray Thumb said, "The hail came in standard Equestrian."

"Patch them through then," Sky Ring said, bracing himself for whatever sort of unholy abomination would show up on his viewscreen.

When the viewscreen activated, Sky Ring's first impression was that he was looking at a furless Diamond Dog in a military uniform. The creature before him stood upright on its hind legs, its feet flat and protruding forward like a monkey's; its legs were long and clad in trousers that concealed their true shape. A belt held the trousers to its waist, and a long-sleeved uniform jacket with elaborate rank insignia and what Sky Ring suspected were a great number of medals covered it to the neck and fore-ankles.

_Or 'wrists' I believe they're called,_ Sky Ring thought, as he realized that the creatures forelimbs, too short to be used for locomotion, and not joined correctly for the task either, _They must be bipeds_. The hands at the ends of the wrists were slender, and all but furless, with one thicker digit set off from the others. Sky Ring wondered vaguely what it was for. The creature's head was very nearly round, perched directly above its shoulders on a very short neck, with a thin dusting of fur along its jawline and around its mouth, the fur gray with what Sky Ring suspected was age. It had a small nose rather than a snout, and a steel-gray hat concealing the top of its head, though more fur peaked out from beneath the sides of it. Its face, on the whole, was weathered and lined, something that furthered Sky Ring's suspicion that it was mammalian, and of considerable age.

On the whole, it was an utterly alien creature, though not horrifying, or even particularly ugly. Then it opened its mouth and spoke, with a gravelly, strong voice.

"I am Admiral Wilkhaim Kol," It said, eying Sky Ring with some surprise, "Commander of the seventh fleet of the Trader Emergency Coalition. You have our apologies that our war has intruded on your system; we are ready to engage in operations to intercept the debris falling onto your world."

Sky Ring took in the creature's words for a moment, thinking rapidly through what the Princess might desire before responding.

"I am Commander Sky Ring, Commanding officer of the ESA _Sisterhood_. Your technology and numbers are both far superior to ours," Sky Ring said immediately, "Safeguarding the ponies of Equestria is paramount, please move with all speed to intercept everything you can. My communications officer will send you a list of all population centers in this hemisphere."

"Understood, Commander Sky Ring," Admiral Kol said gravely, "We will move with all speed."

Sky Ring nodded, and the communication was cut, putting the overview of near-Equestrian space back on the main viewer.

((()))

_Skies of Equestria_

_Nopony _flew like Rainbow Dash.

_Nopony_.

Most ponies wouldn't even _think_ of buzzing directly between two aircraft doing more than two hundred miles per hour, especially when one was firing intermittently at the other.

Most ponies weren't Rainbow Dash.

Most ponies wouldn't take the pilots ignoring her as invitation to do it again.

Most ponies weren't Rainbow Dash.

Most ponies wouldn't take being ignored a second time as an invitation to fly up to the second ship, the one with the _guns firing_, move close enough to identify the cockpit, land on it, plaster her face against the cockpit canopy, and start making faces at the pilot inside.

Rainbow Dash _did._

"Hah! Gotcha!" Rainbow Dash shouted, zooming up and away from the cockpit as the pilot jerked in surprise, the craft at least temporarily spiraling out of control as his hands jerked away from his control yoke to instinctively interpose themselves between the pilot's face and Rainbow Dash's leering head.

"Take that!" Dash shouted after the craft, then zipped ahead and down towards the leading ship, closing in to try and find _its_ cockpit, wondering how the hay a _Diamond Dog_ got a ship like that.

It didn't seem to have one though, and Rainbow Dash twisted around the ship in confusion. It was a sleek vessel, with a shallow central fuselage stretching out into a pair of wings that each _had_ borne large weapon modules. Now the front half of one module was gone, and the central fuselage had taken at least two hits at some point along the way, exposing the ship's internal workings. It was in one of the damaged sections of the hull, that Rainbow Dash finally found the pilot. He was wedged into the space cleared in the hull by its damage, and waved gingerly at Rainbow as she looked at him.

Rainbow waved back, then gestured for him to follow her, and he nodded. Hoping that nodding meant the same thing to Diamond Dogs that it did to Ponies (and that she'd paid more attention to that part of social studies in school), Dash began guiding the smaller vessel off towards Ghastly Gorge. She knew she wouldn't have long, as it wouldn't take the second pilot long to regain control of his craft, and resume pursuit.

((()))

All across the skies of Equestria, TEC Capital Ships sped in low, swift orbits, their weapons lashing out to break up debris into chunks small enough for the atmosphere to dispose of during entry. What remained of their strike craft wings flew lower, into the atmosphere itself, to cut into the debris that had made it past their parent vessels. A substantial portion of the debris got through, but that was alright; most of Equestria was empty of sentient life, when measured square kilometer by square kilometer, and such areas did not need protection.

Perhaps most importantly for the TEC's efforts, the hulk of the destroyed mothership, which had broken up into seven primary pieces along with countless smaller fragments, spread itself out along an uninhabited archipelago near the eastern coast of Equestria's largest ocean. The archipelago was uninhabited, and word to the coast's inhabitants was spread in time for them to evacuate before the ensuing tsunami struck. Millions of gallons of seawater were vaporized in the impact, and two of the archipelago's islands were heavily damaged by direct hits, but as with the rest of the rain of debris, no lives were lost, even if there was considerable property damage.

((()))

Rainbow Dash winced as the damaged vessel crashed violently into the floor of Ghastly Gorge, dorsal hull shredding against the stone even as its trailing destruction slowed the ship down. The pilot had dropped it well though, and it bled out all of its momentum crossing the canyon's floor, and did not end up a flaming wreck crashed into one of the canyon walls. Instead, it ended up as a _smoldering_ wreck near the end of the canyon.

Dash had landed atop the canyon wall herself, staying well-clear of the impact area, and would have moved down after the ship stopped moving, except the pursuing vessel had returned. It had caught back up with them just as the damaged vessel was falling below the lip of the gorge, and now it was landing directly in front of the crashed ship, its running lights cutting through the night to illuminate the vessel.

And the figure, too tall to be a Diamond Dog Dash now realized, staggering away from the wreck. It was bipedal, and completely covered by some sort of metallic suit, which she supposed made sense since it had come, you know, from _space_. Reentry had clearly been harsh on it, but it turned to face the landed vessel, and Rainbow Dash could see the anger and defiance in its stance.

Then two more creatures with similar shapes, but different clothing, disembarked from the intact ship, and warily approached the unsteady figure, with small pistols in their hands.

"Scum!" The first creature shouted, shocking Rainbow Dash by speaking in words she understood (aliens were supposed to speak in strange weird sounds, _everypony_ knew that), "Come so that I may slay you!"

The pair responded by opening fire, drilling over a dozen shots into the first creature between the two of them. Some of them missed, and most of the rest were deflected by a shimmering barrier that reminded Rainbow of a Unicorn's Telekinesis, but at least some punched through it, and the creature fell back awkwardly onto the stone.

Rainbow shivered as the smell of blood wafted up to her nostrils, and she felt like crying as she realized the pilot was probably dead. But the shooters didn't relax, warily approaching him, and as a moment later the first creature struggled into a seated position, Rainbow realized it was because he wasn't dead, and they still considered him dangerous. He gestured forcefully at them, and a visible wave of magic washed towards the shooters, staggering them, and provoking them to open fire again.

Another dozen shots rang out, and this time they were too close to miss, and only a handful were deflected by the shimmering barrier, the others visibly causing his body to recoil.

Dash felt sick to her stomach; she didn't know why they were fighting, who the good guys were, who the bad guys were, but she still hated seeing death coming like this. The two shooters continued to carefully approach, one pulling of its helmet to reveal a round head, with a short mane, no fur on its face save for a set of eyebrows, and a grim expression on its narrow mouth.

"Think he's down yet?" The creature asked.

"No," The other creature said harshly, still wearing its helmet, "You saw his eyes? This one's a tough bastard, heavily augmented too. Would have to be to survive reentry and the g's he was pulling in turns."

Then the creature with its helmet on stomped on the first pilot's arm, breaking it with a snap Dash could hear all the way from the canyon top. The pilot, who had been trying to struggle upright again, spasmed with pain for an instant, then reached over with his other arm to grab the creature's leg.

The helmeted creature responded by kicking the arm away, then stomping on the first pilot's other arm, to break that too.

Dash threw up.

When she looked down again, she saw the helmeted creature pulling the first pilot's helmet off, and it didn't come easy. When it did come off, even though Dash had only seen one of their species faces before, it was obvious that what was revealed from beneath the helmet, was _not _what was meant to be. Apparently the heat of reentry had been harder on the creature than she'd first thought, because the skin of its face was warped with heat burns, and in places the skin was gone altogether, peeled way with the helmet to reveal muscle and bone beneath.

"Do you surrender," The helmeted creature said, kicking the creature's now exposed head, "Advent freak?"

The pilot spat at the helmeted creature, his spittle streaked with red blood, though Dash saw the gesture more than the spit itself. The helmeted creature responded by kicking the pilot's head again; whereas the first kick had been more of an insult than anything else, _this_ kick was clearly intended to damage, and Dash winced as the pilot's head bounced off his shoulder.

"I was hoping you'd say that," The helmeted creature said venomously, and the pilot spat again, though he missed this time.

The helmeted creature kicked the pilot again, and Dash threw up again.

When she looked back down again, the helmeted creature was kicking the pilot again.

Then again.

And _again_.

"Keel!" The creature from the second ship who had taken off his helmet shouted, "If you're going to kill him, just _kill him_, this is cruel and unusual punishment!"

The helmeted creature snarled, and leveled another, more forceful kick, against the creature laying before him, and something audibly cracked, drawing a horrific scream from the injured creature, as its whole body began having a spastic fit, even the broken arms.

When Rainbow Dash heard that scream, something inside of _her_ snapped. She didn't know why these creatures were fighting each other. She didn't know whether or not the wounded one was a horrible pony, or whatever he was, though she did admire his spirit. What she _did_ know, was that what was being done to him was _wrong_ and she had to _stop it_.

Leaping from the edge of the Ghastly Gorge with a fierce cry, Rainbow Dash hurled herself downward with every bit of speed she could manage.

That was when she realized that part of why she'd been able to break the sound barrier and achieve the Sonic Rainboom years ago in Cloudesdale, was because she was being driven by something larger than herself. Years ago, Fluttershy had _needed_ someone to stand up for her, and not get beaten down doing it.

Now, there was a creature down there, an _intelligent_, _talking_ creature, that needed _saving_, and there was nopony around but her to do it.

As Rainbow Dash descended from the lip of the canyon, she accelerated faster than any known flight-capable creature or machine ever had before, her Pegasus magic shredding the laws of Physics like so much unwanted newspaper, as she breached the sound barrier six feet above the floor of the Ghastly Gorge

Sonic Rainboom attained, she scooped up the injured creature with her forelegs, the magic of the Rainboom allowing her the 85 degree turn to not smash into the canyon floor, and not tear the creature in half when she slipped her forelegs under his shoulders and rocketed away.

In a blaze of multicolored light, Rainbow Dash blitzed past the Quarry Eels, maneuvered through the thorn-thicket faster than should have been physically possible, especially considering she avoided getting either herself or her passenger so much as nicked, careened through the wind tunnel, then cut up just high enough to skim across the plains around Ponyville towards Fluttershy's house.

Fluttershy was a fully qualified vet, if anypony knew how to treat a strange space-pony's injuries, _she_ would.

((()))

_Orbit of Equestria._

Admiral Wilkhaim Kol was tired, but grimly satisfied. His fleet had fought a long, _hard_ battle, but had ultimately achieved victory, and at _relatively_ light losses. One of the advantages to the highly durable construction philosophy employed by the TEC, and a very _intentional_ advantage, was that even as ships were sustaining irrecoverable damage, they took a long time to break apart. Long enough for a large portion, usually the majority, of a crew to reach escape pods.

Like most of the TEC's officer core, Kol had a pronounced dislike of the Advent, and dearly wished they had remained in exile long enough to let the TEC finish defeating the Vasari. Unlike most TEC officers, he _respected_ the Advent, even if he didn't like them, as the Advent never, _ever_ attacked life pods. The same could not be said of the Vasari. The Vasari's only interest in humans was in slaves, and military personnel were generally less tractable than terrified civilians.

All said and done, his fleet had lost all its frigates and cruisers, save a handful of Hoshiko's and Cielo Command Cruisers, but only a single Sova Carrier amongst its Capital ships. None of the Akkans had been seriously damaged, something he was deeply grateful, considering the circumstances under which they had arrived in this system, and between the assorted Capital vessels, they had more than enough space for the survivors from the destroyed ships.

Clean-up of the mess that battle had made in this Terran world's gravity well was proceeding smoothly, his fatigued officers understanding full-well just how important good relations with the planet's natives would be if they were trapped in this system for the foreseeable future. Not to mention the basic moral imperative to not let their mess get anyone else killed.

What Wilkhaim had to deal with, and was ultimately _solely_ his responsibility, was establishing relations with the natives.

Who, apparently, were _sentient talking ponies._

How a species without opposable thumbs had managed an industrial revolution, much less to reach _space_, was _far_ beyond him, but apparently they _had_, if only at an intra-solar level.

This was going to be just _wonderful_ to explain to the TEC council when the fleet regained contact.

((()))

_Edge of the Everfree Forest._

Fluttershy lurched awake as her sleep-addled brain tried to sort through the assault of sounds upon her sensitive ears. Rolling groggily out of bed, she stumbled onto all fours, and shrugged her wings to free her from the blankets that tried to drag her back into blissful sleep, and made her way to the front door of her homey little cottage. As she moved, the sleep cleared from her mind enough for her to recognize the voice shouting from outside her door.

"Fluttershy!" Rainbow Dash shouted, "You gotta come _quick_, I don't know how much longer he'll live!"

_That_ grabbed Fluttershy's attention and pumped adrenaline into her blood, her staggering became a swift canter, and she reached her front door in seconds. Pulling it open revealed Rainbow Dash, covered in sweat, and standing frantically beside a large four limbed creature with an injured and bleeding head that was in the middle of some kind of seizure.

"Oh no!" Fluttershy gasped, immediately moving forward to inspect the creature closely, "What happened? Where did you find it?"

"It fell out of the sky in a ship!" Dash gasped, "I think it was burned as it came through the atmosphere, then two more came down after it in another ship and started beating it up!"

Fluttershy nodded vaguely as she leaned down to place her head against its chest, where she could hear its heartbeat more clearly. It was steady and strong, despite the creature's seizure, so she decided it would be safe to move it again.

"Help me move it to my OR," Fluttershy said firmly, "I need to have a look at it under these clothes."

"Under the clothes?" Dash shouted, even as she helped Fluttershy lifted the wounded creature, "What about his _face?_"

"The facial burns are cauterized," Fluttershy said softly, as they carefully moved around Fluttershy's house towards her veterinary rooms in the back, "Painful, but they won't kill him if they haven't already. There's a lot of blunt trauma to the side of his head, but I need to make sure his heart and lungs are stable before I worry about his brain. How did you know he was male?"

"I dunno," Dash said, more subdued, "I guess he just sorta seemed like one?"

"Then we shouldn't call it a he," Fluttershy said firmly, "Until we learn more about its species, it could be a female for all we know."

"...Alright," Dash said, maneuvering a little to open the door into Fluttershy's OR, "I still think it's a he though."

"I think you're probably right, I don't see any female sexual characteristics common to mammals," Fluttershy agreed, "But it's best to be sure. Someponies get very offended if you mistake their gender."

"Yeah," Dash said as they eased the injured creature onto Fluttershy's operating table, "But this thing ain't a pony."

Fluttershy nodded, but said nothing, as she began collecting surgical implements and carrying them carefully over to the table.

"Dashie," Fluttershy said quietly, "This is going to be very messy. If you think you can help without being sick, I could use an assistant. Otherwise, could you please go in to Ponyville and get Rarity? I could use her telekinesis and may need her sewing skills before this is done."

Dash was torn for a moment; she wanted to help, but knew that she didn't have the timid pony's iron stomach for dealing with blood and guts. She'd thrown up twice just _watching_ the creature get injured, and she knew that it would be a Very Bad Thing to throw up on a patient in the middle of surgery. Then she remembered that she was the fastest pony in Equestria; she could go get Rarity and carry her back in plenty of time to help as well herself.

"I'll go get Rarity," Dash said firmly, "Be back in a flash!"

Fluttershy nodded, and smiled at her friend, before turning to the creature on her operating table, and carefully lifting a scalpel with her mouth. Dash decided to leave before Fluttershy started cutting, and slipped out of the door, before rapidly accelerating towards Ponyville.

It wasn't something Fluttershy particularly _liked_ to do, cutting another creature open, but she knew that sometimes you had to in order to fix what was wrong on the inside. For now, she was just cutting away the creature's clothing, judging the depth of her incisions by the amount of resistance she received from the reflective fabric. She cut open a simple square shape across the primary portion of the creature's flat chest for starters, then used a clamp to carefully peel it away.

As she had feared, most of the creature's skin came with its clothing, heat from atmospheric entry having cooked the metallic clothing onto its flesh. How it was still alive, Fluttershy had no idea, as most, if not all of its body had to be covered in burns, and that much damage would have killed any creature she had encountered before. Once she had finished peeling away the square of fabric, as well as most of the skin on the creature's chest, which made an ugly, wet, tearing sound as it came free, she had a nearly unobstructed view of the creature's muscles and rib cage.

What she found there shocked her. The creature's ribs were not simple bone, but had been augmented with a graceful interlacing of blue-gray metals. Its muscles (lean and in healthy condition Fluttershy noticed) were interwoven with white strands that Fluttershy instinctively knew were not natural. Using a probe to carefully displace the muscles over its left ribs allowed her just enough sight to see that the creature's heart clearly had some sort of mechanical enhancement upon it as well, which was probably part of the reason the creature wasn't dead from shock.

Fluttershy fretted for a few minutes as she eyed the creature's exposed chest, but ultimately decided she shouldn't interfere with something so far from her understanding. She was fairly certain that having its clothes fused to its skin couldn't be healthy, no matter what enhancements it had, so she carefully began to cut away the clothing, this time focusing on separating the garment from the skin with horizontal strokes, rather than opening access further into its body with vertical incisions.

Being of a naturally reserved temperament, and the mirror to Dash's speed and power over control, Fluttershy's deft handling of the scalpel began to efficiently cut loose the metal fabric, revealing more and more of the creature's skin. Fluttershy started with the rest of the creature's chest, then worked her way up and down its legs, then arms, working the areas with even surfaces and few potential surprises as practice before risking the creature's joints or groin.

Besides, no matter _how_ many times Fluttershy ended up working around a creature's groin, she always felt terribly awkward moving around their reproductive organs. It just seemed like she was intruding on something terribly private, and since this was apparently an _intelligent_ creature, she wasn't sure she'd be able to work up the nerve to do it at _all._

By the time Dash returned with Rarity, Fluttershy was just beginning to carefully work on freeing the creature's hands from the scorched clothing. It was clear from both ponies aggravated expression that most of the time it had taken was spent dragging Rarity out of bed, a process which obviously neither had enjoyed.

"Rarity," Fluttershy said faintly, "This thing's clothing is burned into its skin. Can you help me cut it loose?"

Rarity, clad in a pink bathrobe and with her mane up in curlers, eyed the mutilated creature somewhat queasily, but nodded.

"Do you know what it is?" She asked as her telekinesis took hold of one of Fluttershy's scalpels, and began maneuvering with Rarity's characteristic precision towards the hand Fluttershy was not working on.

"No," Fluttershy said, "The closest thing I've seen is a Diamond Dog, but this creature bears no direct resemblance to a canine, aside from being a mammal."

Rarity nodded, and the two set to work, stripping the rest of the creature's garments off. Fluttershy was exceedingly grateful for the Pegasus' help, Fluttershy was quite skilled with fine manipulation, but nopony she had ever met could match Rarity's precision with her telekinesis. She was especially grateful that the Pegasus volunteered to handle the creature's pelvic region while Fluttershy dealt with its feet. After they finished stripping the front of the creature, Rarity flipped it with her telekinesis, and they swiftly cleared the flesh of its back.

Once they were done, Fluttershy visually inspected the creature's body. In some places, its skin had been burnt beyond recovery, and she enlisted Rarity's aid in gently clearing these patches of destroyed skin, which extended to muscle damage in some places. By and large though, they managed to save the rest of the creature's skin, except for that over its elbows and kneecaps. What they could see of its muscles and bones through the missing patches of skin showed similar alterations to what was visible on the front of its chest.

They found seven bullets in the man's flesh, two of which had smashed themselves flat, literally, against the creature's bones, and the rest of which had needed to be dug out of its reinforced muscles. Fluttershy was rather frightened by the possible implications of such invasive implants, and them being needed to protect against bullets, but chose to focus on the patient's other issues once they'd dug the mashed slugs out of its body.

With their inspection of the rest of its body completed, Fluttershy began to cautiously perform a closer inspection of its head, Rarity helpfully shaving away the creature's short, messy mane as she did so. Fluttershy found that that one side of the creature's head had been scraped partially bare of skin, revealing an armored skull underneath. Unlike the other bones in the creature's body, the skull was not simply reinforced with the blue-gray alloy, it was entirely encompassed by it, save a few places where small electronic devices protruded from it.

"You said two other creatures like this one attacked it," Fluttershy said softly, looking to Rainbow Dash, who was watching queasily from next to Fluttershy's utility sink, "Did they strike it in the side of the head?"

"That was the _only_ place they were hittin' it," Dash said, "Somethin' in the last kick made him, er, _it_, start screaming, and that's when I took him away."

"Judging by the seizure it was having when you brought it in," Fluttershy said, "I think they broke one of these implants," She pointed at the damaged hardware with a probe, "Which is probably connected to its brain. I don't know what to do with this, or if _anypony_ knows what to do with something like this. It'd probably be best to take it to the Royal College of Medicine, they're the only place I know of that might be experimenting with cybernetics like this."

"Ah," Rarity said, "Pardon me, Fluttershy, I know I am not as experienced with medical matters as you, but aren't burns this extensive, much less the blood loss from the bullet wounds, usually fatal?"

"Yes," Fluttershy said, nodding sadly, "But here, let me show you. Dash, you should see this too."

Taking a probe in hand, Fluttershy carefully displaced the muscles over the left side of the creature's chest just enough for the other two ponies to catch sight of the creature's clearly-modified heart.

"Its other organs are probably modified too," Fluttershy said softly, "And that's why its still alive."

Silence reigned in the room for a long moment, eventually broken by Rainbow Dash.

"So what do we do now?" She asked

"Unless you want to take it to Canterlot tonight," Rarity said firmly, "You will be taking me home now, and then we will _all_ get some sleep."

((()))

The Unity was _gone_.

Gone.

_Gone._

…

How was I still _alive_?

…

Man was not meant to be this _alone._ It wasn't _right_.

No wonder the Traders are such evil bastards, if they have to live like _this_ all the time.

My mind was a roiling ruin, the damage to my augmetics having shattered the hyperlink between myself and the rest of the Unity, and the damage the Trader's kick had dealt messing up my natural telepathy, and screwing with my control of everything, and anything, else, as well.

My body was an incarnation of agony, my pharmacope long since drained of painkillers, the burns across my entire body trying to convince my brain to shut down and kill me, but my combat-augs denying death. Up until the last kick, the support from the augs would have been unnecessary, my will alone more than enough to push back death's offense upon my being, but being cut off from the Unity...

Man was _not_ meant to _live_ in such ways.

I wept, the damage to my face turning my tears to streaks of blood.

((()))

Fluttershy started slightly as her sensitive ears heard a faint dripping sound. She lay huddled in her blankets, thoughts of what had happened to the creature down in her OR preventing her from sleep. Worse were the thoughts of what would drive a creature to do _that_ to its body in the first place, and the horrible recognition that it had been right to do so, as the heavy modifications to its body were all that kept it alive.

She heard the dripping sound again, and took it as a welcome excuse to leaver her bed behind, rolling out of bed, and leaving her bedroom to track the sound. Angel Bunny, ever sensitive to her moods, came bouncing up to her, and leapt onto her back, fully intent on keeping her company as she moved through her darkened house.

It took only the third drip for her to home in on the sound, and entered her OR to find a dark liquid falling from the table where the creature lay to the floor. Fluttershy turned on the lights, and discovered that the creature was trembling again, and crying tears of blood. Her heart lurched violently within her chest, just as it did whenever she saw a wounded creature in pain, and she desperately wished she understood its biology well enough to give it a pain-killer.

Instead, she gave the creature the comfort she gave all the wounded animals that came into her care, climbing carefully up onto the table beside it, then gently laying herself down beside it, so that her flanks just brushed against its damaged flesh, and gently began nuzzling the few undamaged portions of its face with her snout, whispering reassuring nothings to it as it cried.

((()))

Something touched me, and I could feel the presence of another. It wasn't through my body that I sensed it, it would have taken the removal of a limb for me to notice something through the pain, it was through an empathic connection that I felt the other's presence, something that with my implants destroyed, I was only capable of through touch.

But _with_ touch, I could feel the other, definitely a female, and its deep concern and worry for me. A personal warmth and compassion I had not felt for twelve years. I clung to that presence desperately, clinging tightly lest the chaos being rent from the Unity should tear my mind apart, and let it soothe me to sleep.

((()))

Fluttershy smiled sadly as the flow of tears gradually trickled off, the creature's eyes closed, and it drifted off to sleep. Though she knew it was far from healed, she could tell that, even if just a little, she had helped relieve some of the creature's pain.

And that was enough to let _her_ find sleep, Angel Bunny snuggling down in her mane to rest with her.

((()))

_Canterlot Royal Library._

"Twilight?" A gentle but strong voice called, rousing the young Unicorn from her slumber.

For _that_ voice, Twilight Sparkle would have found a way to wake from the dead, if she could.

"Yes Princess?" She blurted out, snapping upright from where she'd fallen asleep (again) on one of the Royal Library's _many_ volumes on magic.

Her movement was an overcompensation, causing her to tip over and fall flat on her back, ending up looking at Princess Celestia, the ruler of all Equestria, upside down and backwards. The white and pastel Alicorn smiled tiredly down at the young pony, and with a quick flip of her Telekinesis, flipped Twilight upright and placed her gently on her feet.

"Come, Twilight Sparkle," Celestia said, "Much has happened this night, and it is time for you to begin a new type of learning, which may be more important than any other field you have ever studied."

"Yes Princess," Twilight said, excitement beginning to show through the fatigue in her eyes as she trotted contendedly after the Alicorn.

Following on in the Princess footsteps as the Alicorn brought her to new learning, new understanding, really, there was no place Twilight would rather be. She was worried for Celestia though, the Princess was _always_ tired, even though she hid it from most of the others, and now here she was, up, working in the middle of the night. Twilight was happy the Princess was bringing her to learn something, but dearly wished Celestia would _rest_ more.

She was still trying to work up the courage to plead that the Alicorn rest more, but, well, she was the _Princess_.

Tonight though, they crossed from the castle library, to the castle's modern communication center, a place that Twilight rarely visited, and was thus curious as to why she was being led to it.

"Now Twilight," Celestia said as they entered, "As I recall, you've read a few papers that speculate on the possibility and nature of alien civilizations?"

"Yes Princess," Twilight said as they entered the largest video conferencing chamber in the castle, "I've read White Gazer's _On Possibilities of life beyond the Void,_ Long Mane's _If Aliens Really Are Out There_, as well as several less popular works."

"Good," Celestia said, nodding approvingly down at her pupil, "So you have some mental framework of understanding relating to the subject?"

"Yes Princess," Twilight said, smiling up at the tall Alicorn.

"Good," Celestia said, and then smiled _that_ smile, "Gazer and Mane were both wrong, the aliens are bipedal mammals."

And with that, she flipped on the communications rig, revealing a nearly furless bipedal mammal on screen.

"Good evening Admiral Kol," Celestia said, smiling gracefully at the biped, "I am Celestia, Absolute Monarch of all Equestria. I must thank you for cleaning up that little mess you and your playmates made in orbit before it injured any of my subjects."

"As you apparently are already aware," The biped said, "I am Admiral Wilkhaim Kol, the ranking officer of the TEC forces currently in this sector. No thanks are necessary, as it is only responsible to clean up after a battle that should not have intruded into your system in the first place."

"Not everyone is so responsible," Celestia said graciously, "And it makes for a much better first impression than simply showing up in my system, shooting things up, then trying to leave. Now, what is it you wished to speak to me about?"

"A number of things, in time," Kol said, "But most urgently, I wish to offer the aid of my support and medical personnel in dealing with whatever damage and casualties debris did cause, and request your permission to send rescue and recovery parties to the surface for any of my people who were forced down during the fighting."

"Granted," Celestia said, "On one condition. You and I will meet, personally, aboard the _Sisterhood_ in one hour."

"Agreed," Kol said, some surprise showing on his features, "I will look forward to meeting you in person."

"As will I," Celestia said, before cutting the channel.

Twilight stared at the now-dark video screen for a long time, still shocked at what she had just witnessed, though eventually, her curiosity overcame her shock, and the questions began.

"What _was_ that?" Twilight asked breathlessly.

"They're called 'humans,'" Celestia said, "They're bipedal mammals, reproduce sexually with a male and female gender following very similar physiological means to Equestrian mammals, are omnivores, and quite probably the most adaptive species you will ever encounter."

"You've encountered them before?" Twilight asked.

"Yes," Celestia said, nodding, "Though it has been millennia since. Now, you should go and get something to eat, and some writing material, as our meeting may take quite some time, and I'm sure you'd like to take notes."

Twilight nodded, and was out the door, well on her way to the kitchens before she realized that Celestia meant she would be going with the Princess, _into space._ Twilight didn't think she'd be able to sleep any more tonight after _that_ revelation, even with Gorstaff's Somnambulation Spell.

((()))

_Orbit of Equestria._

"Ponies, sir?" asked Captain Joanne Gregorovich, CO of the _Thermadine_, the _Akkan_-class Battlecruiser serving as Kol's flagship since the loss of the _Indefatigable_.

"You heard me," Kol said, smiling wryly at the woman on his comm screen, "Almost dead ringers for miniature horses, save the unusual head with a clearly-enlarged cranium, and vivid coloring. I spoke with a 'Celestia,' apparently their reigning monarch. As no one else has seen fit to contact us, I gather the title is at least partially valid."

"If you say so sir," Joanne said, her expression perfectly respectful even as her voice conveyed her 'the boss is the boss even if he's crazy' tone, which he was becoming all-too accustomed to considering he had only been aboard the _Thermadine_ for three days.

"I do," Kol said, amping his smile up a tad, just for effect, "And I've got a meeting with this 'Celestia' aboard that hula-hoop they've got in orbit. Could I trouble you to have a launch run out for me?"

"Our senior flag officer, meeting with an unknown new species on potentially hostile ground?" Gregorovich asked.

"Yes," Kol said, entirely serious now, "It was the condition for granting our S&R teams freedom to land on the surface."

The Captain stared intently at Kol for a few moments, and Kol met her gaze evenly.

"Your launch will be ready in Bay three," She said abruptly, "It should be prepared before you arrive."

"Thank you Captain," Kol said, nodding, "Flag Bridge out."

((()))

_ESA _Sisterhood_, Geosynchronous orbit of Equestria._

Sky Ring was, rather understandably, a little bit nervous. Apparently, his station was to be the sight of a major diplomatic meet, between the ranking 'Hewman' and the Princess herself. Considering the technology the Hewmans possessed, this would be the most important event in Sky Ring's life, much less his career. Things going badly could result in the death of everypony on Equestria, save the Princess herself.

He was also, rather understandably, _excited. _He had met with the Princess before several times, as he _was_ one of the ranking members of the ESA, but to be present at _First Contact?_

This was why he had joined the ESA in the first place.

It had taken eighteen years with the ESA to rise to the position he now held, having captained an atmosphere lifter, then an ore-hauler working the asteroid fields, and finally a genuine explorator vessel on a mission out to the iceballs past Bellerophon and Magnus, the system's primary gas giants, before being assigned to command of the _Sisterhood_. The _Sisterhood_ itself was the largest single space-born construct ever built by Ponykind, built in the form of an enormous ring, consisting of three primary structural elements.

The innermost ring was the simplest, mounting a large array of inward-facing solar panels for power, and small modules containing an organic glop Sky Ring did not entirely understand, but served the plant-kingdom function of cycling carbon dioxide back to oxygen for ponies to breath. Joining it to the central ring were an array of floating joints which only maintained direct contact via ball-bearings, rotating power/atmosphere exchangers that attached and detached as it rotated, and the motivator assembly that controlled the ring's rotation. The inner ring served as inertial counter-weight to the central ring, the motivators spinning it in counter to the central ring, maintaining the central ring's Equestrian-standard gravity.

The central ring was three decks deep, the outermost/lowermost deck being double-deep, and contained almost the entirety of the station's usable volume. Crew quarters, machine shops, science labs, a small enclosed park for when a pony just had to feel grass under his hooves and hear the birds singing, medical facilities, anything and everything it was more efficient to have handled in orbit, rather than burn fuel and telekinetic power on trans-atmospheric travel.

The outer ring was configured to hold near-zero rotation, and was joined to the central ring via a series of mobile airlocks. Bureaucrats had screamed about the expenses involved in building something as complex as the _Sisterhood_, but fortunately Princes Celestia had possessed a much better grasp of how foolish it would be to try and dock something as fragile as an ore hauler to anything rotating fast enough to generate appreciable gravity. The outer ring contained a large series of docking hardpoints, as well as ore smelting and refining machinery.

Ever since it had been completed seventeen years ago, the _Sisterhood_ had been the largest single space-born construct in the Equestrian system, as well as the largest single command. Sky Ring was more than proud to have it, even if he would have preferred to continue Explorator work in the hope of making first contact. As the extra-equestrials had ended up coming to _them_ instead of the other way around, Sky Ring was quite happy with the way things had worked out.

In the end, he had decided to use the largest free space in the central ring for the meeting, as apparently the Hewmans were considerably taller than your average pony. Not to mention how tall Princess Celestia herself was. He just hoped that whatever docking equipment the Hewmans used, it was compatible with the ESA's standardized equipment, or else adaptive, because he didn't really have much ability to change things on his end.

Now, waiting in the outer ring to meet 'Admiral Kol' in person, he was forcing himself to patience. First pony to make official first contact with an advanced alien race? He could die happy after today.

Then he heard the faint metallic clang of docking clamps locking into place through the hull, and he smiled. It was a few moments yet before he heard the outer hatch open, then he waited another few seconds before opening the inner hatch himself. Showtime.

"Greetings," Sky Ring said, "And on behalf of the Princess, welcome to the ESS _Sisterhood_."

Inside of the airlock were two obvious guards, and behind them he could just see a gray-bearded male hewman, and that there were others behind him. It was also painfully obvious that the _Sisterhood_ was built on _far_ too small a scale to be comfortable for the hewmans, Sky Ring was certain they wouldn't be able to stand upright, or even come close.

"Salutations," The older man said, as the guards maneuvered themselves out into the corridor, revealing that it was, indeed, Admiral Kol following behind them, "Glad to be here, even if we're a mite big for your construction."

"That would be a polite way of putting it," Sky Ring said as he stared up at the man, "I believe we spoke once before, Admiral Kol?"

"Indeed, Commander Sky Ring," Kol said, his right arm twitching for a moment as he suppressed the instinct to go for a handshake, "Amongst humans, shaking hands during greetings is customary, do ponies have any customs of a similar nature?"

"Hooves," Sky Ring said, stretching his hoof out towards the hewman.

The hewman took his hoof, and they shook, then cleared out of the way so the other hewmans could pass through the airlock.

"This is Joanne Gregorovitch," Kol said, as another hewman with a somewhat different overall shape and a much longer mane came through, "My Flag Captain."

Sky Ring offered her his hoof as well, and they shook. He studied her for a moment, before speaking.

"Excuse me," He said, "But are you a female?"

"Yes," She said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"While in ponies the anatomical differences are more subtle," Sky Ring said, "We _are_ familiar with sexual dimorphism. Is anyone else coming aboard?"

"No," Kol said, "Just Joanne, the marines, and myself."

"Well then," Sky Ring said, "If you'll follow me, I'll lead you to the appointed meeting hall. It's only a cargo hold, but it's probably the only space on the station with enough depth for you to stand comfortably."

"Probably better this way," Kol said, smiling, "Once you've got the budget for luxuries like formal meeting halls, the politicians start feeling it's worth their while to come out and 'supervise' things."

"And then _nothing_ gets done," Sky Ring said with a smile, "I am _so_ glad the Princess lends personal oversight to the ESA."

"She's not much for bureaucracy?" Kol asked.

"No," Sky Ring said, "And she has an eidetic memory, so you could say she is the _antithesis _of bureaucracy. She can literally balance a multi-billion bit budget in her head."

"That's... very impressive," Kol said.

"_The Princess_ is very impressive," Sky Ring said emphatically, "You'll see when you meet her."

Kol nodded, and they passed the rest of their transit time in silence, eventually reaching the cargo bay that had been roughly set up to serve as a meeting hall. When they arrived, the assorted humans were quite grateful for the expanded legroom, even though they had fewer legs than their hosts. Kol himself was feeling nostalgic; the bay's purely utilitarian nature reminding him of simpler days, back before he had needed to play _politics_ and deal with all the trappings thereof. In addition he, like his subordinates, appreciated the opportunity to stand upright.

With a sudden burst of light, the bay held two new sentients. The first, and most obvious, was a large, regal creature that was either a slightly small horse, or a very large pony. She, and her femininity was somehow clear despite the different species, was so white she almost glowed, with a pastel rainbow of color for a mane and tail, as well as white wings and a large horn. She was adorned with some minimalistic ceremonial golden armor and a crown, but despite having the characteristic shimmer of real gold, she moved as though it was weightless. The second Pony was much smaller, smaller even than the Ponies that Kol had already met, though not by much; Wilkhaim guessed that she was an adolescent. She was purple, with a darker purple mane and tail with a single pink streak through each.

Like all the other Ponies he had encountered so far, these each had a marking on their hind flanks, a stylized sun for Celestia, and a star pattern for the purple one.

"Greetings, Admiral Kol," Celestia said, utilizing the 'voice of command' with more skill than Kol had thought _possible_, and managing _somehow_ to sound genuinely welcoming at the same time, "It has been some thousands of years since humans have come to our world. I suppose it is fortunate that the language does not appear to have changed much."

"Greetings, Princess Celestia," Kol said, raising an eyebrow, "I was unaware that our races had mutual history."

"Oh, you wouldn't be," Celestia said with a smile that somehow seemed to suggest it was a smirk, even though it wasn't, "This would be, oh, nine and a half thousand years ago. It's nice to see a human again though, your kind can often make excellent friends and allies, as your own earnest efforts to clean up the mess your battle made in our gravity well prove. Humans can be very honorable."

"You flatter us," Kol said gravely, "The fact that we are in a war with our own species, unfortunately, proves that we can be just as dishonorable as we can be honorable."

"Yes," Celestia said sadly, "Unfortunately, I am also aware of that aspect of human nature. However, there is a saying that applies equally well to both of our races, I believe you call it the carrot and the stick?"

"I am familiar," Kol said with a nod, "Why?"

"A demonstration," Celestia said, with a smile that this time was _definitely_ a smirk, "Please select, if you would, a phrase of particular meaning, and tell me what it is?"

"Ah," Kol said, a little surprised at the request, but hardly unwilling, "_Sic Semper Tyranis_."

"Ohhh, Latin," Celestia said with a smile, "I'm surprised any humans still bother with it. It was nearly a lost language back in the day. One moment."

The regal Pony's eyes focused on something distant for a moment, then _flashed_ with an internal light that Kol had never heard of in any sort of unmodified life form before. Then her eyes focused on him again, and there was something terribly mischevious about the way she looked at him.

"You may wish to contact the vessels you have running rescue operations closer to our star," Celestia said, "And ask for a visual feed."

Kol carefully measured her gaze and body language as best he could, then did as the Monarch suggested. It was not difficult for him to convince his staff to forward him a feed from one of the Hoshiko's using its drones for rescue work in the star's near orbit, and within thirty seconds, the visual feed was being displayed by the hologram emitter built into his PDA.

A solar flare was emerging from the star, like no natural formation he had ever seen, and as the seconds passed, it became clear that it held a very deliberate shape, spelling out _Sic Semper Tyranis._

"As you can see, Admiral," Celestia said, her voice suddenly full of iron, hard gaze locked on to Kol as her presence filled the hold with oppressive force, "My name is _not_ simply for show. I hold absolute control of this system's star, and by no mere technological device or means. One could say that I am a Pyrokinetic on a scale beyond any humans have known before. So while my Pony's civilization may possess technology inferior to your own, and the other sentient species of this world even less, I would have you, and more importantly the merchant and political factors of your own society, remember that Equestria _never_ negotiates from a position of weakness."

For a long, long moment, Kol forced himself to hold Celestia's gaze, and he was man enough to admit to himself he was relieved when she turned it upon first Captain Gregorovich, then the members of his bodyguard detail. Eventually, however, she had achieved her purpose with the almost-glare, and the suffocating presence receded.

"Now, that said," Celestia said her expression softening into a small smile, "Will you accept our Friendship?"

((()))

_Edge of the Everfree Forest._

Fluttershy woke late that morning, at nearly 8 AM. Even worse, from her perspective, she would have slept in _even more_ if it were not for the sound of somepony knocking on her door. She was cold, and a little bit cramped, from sleeping on the operating table, but when she roused enough to realize that the strange creature had begun to cling to her at some point during the night, she felt much warmer.

It was good to be needed.

Somepony knocked on the door again, harder this time, and Fluttershy felt the creature beside her begin to stir.

"Just a minute!" She shouted faintly, something she would never have had the courage to do if the pony at the door wasn't disturbing one of her patients.

After gently nuzzling the burnt creature for a moment, Fluttershy carefully slipped herself out of its loose grasp, glided down from the surgical table, then trotted off towards the front door. She yawned along the way, groggily shaking her head, and tossing her mane to the side, before she arrived at her front door. Once she reached the door, she paused, and took a deep breath to brace herself for interaction with others, and newcomers at that, something that always terrified her.

Then she opened the door, and opened her mouth to speak.

Fluttershy froze.

Then she tilted her head ninety degrees to the side and stared at the two bipedal creatures standing outside of her house, towering over her.

Recognition dawned.

"Oh!" Fluttershy said brightly, "I didn't recognize your species with the skin still intact. Are you male?"

The two men nodded slightly, startled by her sudden change in demeanor. One opened his mouth to speak, but Fluttershy beat him to the punch.

"Please do come inside," She said, "He's very, very injured, and while I pulled the bullets out, I don't know how to heal him properly."

"He's injured?" One of the men said as the two stooped down to waddle into Fluttershy's house after her, "We don't have a medic with us, we just thought one of our crashed pilots had bunked with a local for the night."

"Quite injured," Fluttershy said, fascination and purpose driving away her natural reticence, "Rainbow Dash said that he had nothing but his clothing and helmet on during atmospheric entry, and the heat burned his suit into his flesh."

Fluttershy drooped, both in posture and in tone, before continuing as she pushed open the door to her OR.

"As you can see-" She began softly, then was struck silent as she saw that the creature was sitting up, and staring at them.

His face was the only part of his body with skin even marginally intact, and it was somehow much, _much_ worse seeing the two strips along the bottom of his cheekbones where his skin had been torn free. The implants and augmentations added to his body were also clearly visible through his ravaged skin, and drew a response from the two newcomers that Fluttershy had not even remotely expected.

"Advent!" one of them screamed, and both reached for the weapons on their belts.

The creature on her operating table slashed the air with both arms, and twin waves of force swept across the OR towards the newcomers. The older of the two dove out of the way, his pistol firing off wildly as he dove, the younger tried to fire through the wave of force, but his shots were swept aside by it, and then he was struck, blasting him back into Fluttershy's house.

Most of the wall surrounding the doorway went with him. Fluttershy stared in shock at the creature, then yelped as a gesture from his hand swept her across the floor towards him. The instant that she came into contact with his seared flesh, she was overwhelmed with a terrifyingly intense deluge of emotions, a bewildering mixture of protective/defensive urge, and incandescent rage combined with the desire to _kill_.

Fluttershy shivered as the creature wrapped its arm around her; she had _never_ felt the urge to kill before, and _never_ wanted to again.

Shots rang out as the older newcomer began firing on the 'Advent,' but he raised a shield of force and deflected the shots, before sending another thrust of energy, this one more narrow, more _focused_, at the gunman, forcing him to dodge again. The lance of force tore another hole through the wall of the OR, then Fluttershy's kitchen, then the living room, and out of the house altogether.

"Reinforcements in three!" Shouted the younger newcomer from the kitchen, as he stormed back into the OR, opening fire on the Advent again.

The Advent snarled, and Fluttershy could feel urgency rise in his emotions as he held her tighter to his chest. A terrible purpose seized him, and energy began to gather visibly around him.

"Shit!" The older newcomer shouted, "Get out of here, he's going to Nova!"

Both of the newcomers fled, the older through the hole in the wall beside him, the younger through the smashed kitchen door.

"I'm sorry," The Advent growled out, his voice as rough and torn as body.

Fluttershy looked up at him, quivering in terror, to see that his eyes were literally _glowing_ with power.

Then he blinked, and the world shattered.

((()))

Master Sergeant Davrek Stamros was a soldier with _experience_. Few men had fought the Advent on the ground, and lived to tell the tale; he was one of them. He strongly suspected that it was this experience that had resulted in him being assigned to Kol's fleet. That Kol had immediately assigned Stamros, along with all of the other combat veteran Marines to the Akkans of the fleet, was all Stamros needed to know that the man _deserved_ his reputation.

Stamros' personal experience and seniority had also fetched him the assignment to go on Search and Rescue in this area, since a bomber crew had reported that at least one Advent had survived landing in this region, though he had been shot repeatedly before escaping. The junior Louey that had given out the retrieval orders had implied that they should keep their eyes out for a corpse, but Stamros had expected more than that.

He hadn't expected one of the Advent to go to ground with the natives. He supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised; the Advent _had_ always kept themselves largely isolated from local populations when they captured a world, but those had all been _human_ worlds. These ponies were messing with _everything_. Stamros also hadn't expected to run into a damn _Telekinetic,_ the rarest psychic gift that the Advent had, something Stamros was damn glad of. With training you could learn to keep a telepath from screwing with your thoughts too badly, but there was _nothing_ that could stop a Telekinetic except for AP rounds into the brainpan.

And as Davrek sprinted away from the picturesque little cottage, he _dearly_ wished that his hyper-penetrators _had_ managed to pierce the damn Advent's TK shields.

_Something_, Davrek was not sure what, screamed at his instincts, and Davrek hurled himself to the ground, a moment before the Cottage exploded.

'Exploded' was both not the technically correct term for what happened to Fluttershy's home, and simply too puny of a word to adequately convey what Stamros narrowly evaded.

Parallel vertical lines of force scythed out through the house at the C-fractional speeds Advent Psintegrats were trained to operate at. They were spaced less than a millimeter apart, and formed a contiguous expanding dome centered upon the Advent's position. Between the sheer forces exerted by the blades, the kinetic energy they imparted as they sliced through the structure, and the heat generated by the ensuing friction, every single item within and structural component of Fluttershy's house was reduced to the consistency of sawdust. The friction caused by the pressure wave cased the aerosolized house to ignite.

_This_ caused an explosion, as Fluttershy's disintegrated house functioned like an extremely crude fuel-air bomb.

The only thing that saved Stamros' life, was the fact that the destruction of Fluttershy's house had been _so_ complete, that there was no shrapnel for the pressure wave to cut him to shreds with.

((()))

Fluttershy had never been so terrified in her life; not even when she had fallen all the way from Cloudesdale to the outskirts of the Everfree Forest.

The creature carrying her screamed out his rage, glaring out over the crater and melting bits of metal that remained of Fluttershy's house, then abruptly soared up into the air. Their initial ascent was smooth, but when he turned to fly over the Everfree forest, his course became very uneven, the creature wildly swerving about.

And he was somehow still pumping his emotions into her through his touch; anger, protectiveness, confusion, pain, and disorientation. Fluttershy rather abruptly realized that his ears had probably been damaged, and he was flying as best he could while heavily disoriented. They did not fly for long, though he set a terrific (and terrifying) pace, their path becoming more and more erratic until he half-landed, half crashed them down beside a river, tucking her in to his chest at the last moment in so that she was cushioned by his body.

Rolling off his body and skidding across the riverbank still hurt, but she had experienced worse, and immediately rolled back onto her hooves to go and check on him. His scorched skin had cracked in at least a dozen places she could see, and he was bleeding from all of them; his breathing shallow and irregular, something it _hadn't_ been last night, and that worried her.

"Oh _no_," Fluttershy said softly, nuzzling around the creature's head as she tried to look into his eyes and see if he was in shock, "I can't treat this out _here_, and you've probably gotten grass into your wounds, and…"

"Shhh…." The creature said, his voice raw and cracking, and he reached up with one hand to touch the side of her snout.

This time, when he touched her, his emotions were far less jumbled, and clear thought came with them.

_Thank you_, his voice said in her mind, much gentler and smoother than his physical one, _For your compassion, little one._ _I am sorry to have brought the Traders upon your house, but I will endeavor to make it right._

He hesitated for a moment, and Fluttershy simply basked in the gratitude and concern she could feel from him, even though it was backed by the substantial physical pain he was in.

_This is my nephew_, his voice came into her mind again, this time accompanied by an image of a smaller creature of his species, standing beside another, even smaller one with a much longer mane, _And my niece. If you find them on this world, please protect them. Avoid the Traders, they will fear you for your gifts, and attempt to destroy or control you._

Then he smiled at her; she thought it was meant to be reassuring, but as it made blood pour out from the wounds in his cheeks, it wasn't very successful.

She still smiled back at him, and brushed her muzzle against his hand.

He closed his eyes, grimaced, and Fluttershy felt _power_ flow through her, making her gasp at the alien, mildly intrusive sensation as it thoroughly disoriented her.

By the time she recovered her senses, he was gone, a receding dot in the sky, and a shimmering dome of energy prevented Fluttershy from attempting to follow.

((()))

Few souls within the Advent are so warm, or caring. I was honored to be cared for by such a one, even as I unintentionally brought ruin down upon her.

Now, as best I could with my equilibrium thoroughly shattered, I made course for the Trader ships I could feel in orbit. Nothing would draw their attention more quickly than a threat to one of their _Akkan-_class vessels, and I intended to draw their attention as far from the forest as I possibly could.

((()))

_Orbit of Equestria._

"Sir," Said Geoff Magnusson, the _Thermadine's_ sensor officer, "I've just picked up something accelerating towards orbital velocity coming up from the planet's surface. It's bearing is roughly appropriate to meet up with us."

"What is it?" Captain Gregorovitch asked, crossing the bridge to stand behind the officer.

"Small," The Lieutenant said, "I'd say it was a surface-to-orbit missile, but the acceleration profile is too low-" He broke off, and Joanne leaned over his shoulder to see what had changed.

"Looks like it's leveled out at about sixteen klicks," He continued, "Decelerated _damn_ fast, too."

Joanne's eyes narrowed.

"TacInt!" The Captain bellowed, "Were there any reports of Advent forces making it to the surface?"

"None confirmed alive, ma'am," Lieutenant Commander Andrea Boston, ranking Tactical Intelligence officer of the _Thermadine_ said, "The Archipelago where the _Progenitor_'s primary fragments went down is still a mess, but we've got lots of eyes on it. One report of an Advent fighter drone carrying one of them down, but he's listed presumed dead."

"Where did that Anima go down?" Gregorovitch demanded, glaring sharply at Boston.

"Er," Boston said, a note of distaste entering her face and voice, "Near 'Ponyville.'"

"That's the region my contact originated from," Magnusson said.

"Get a capture team down there, on the double," Gregorovitch barked, crossing the bridge to get back to her chair, "And find out who the hell decided that a _Telekine_ was presumed dead. I'm going to give the Admiral a call."

((()))

_16,000 meters above the Everfree Forest._

Unfortunately for me, they didn't send fighters down after me. They sent three capture craft, which were essentially utility shuttles equipped with light armor and incredibly expensive gravitic manipulators. Short range gravitic manipulation is relatively cheap and easy, even for the technologically backwards TEC; unfortunate, as it would be far easier to fight them if they lacked effective inertial compensators. Gravitic manipulation at a distance though, especially distances long enough to provide some measure of protection from Psintegrats not tied into ship-wide psi-projection relays, are expensive even for us, much less the TEC.

Still, it's not like they have much of a chance at taking one of us alive by any _other_ means, as we have proved more than once. I'm one of the more powerful Telekines of my generation, and if I was in better shape, I might be able to surprise them with my range and power to tear one of them apart, then go to ground when the others tried to pull back out of range, but as things stood, my chances of being able to target effectively were just about nil.

Not that that would keep me from _trying_.

((()))

Some part of Rainbow Dash _knew_, on an instinctive level, that what she heard was not just the sound of another of the 'humans' S&R craft breaking the sound barrier, but that it was a _person_ doing so. And that was something that she _had_ to see. Need drove her, drove her _hard_, and she leapt from the cloud she had been resting on, and _moved_.

_Nopony_ was as fast as Rainbow Dash.

_Nopony_.

With a resounding crash, Dash smashed through the sound barrier, for the third time in her life and the second time in as many days, kaleidoscopic light trailing behind her as she streaked across the sky towards where she had heard the sonic boom. At first, all that was visible was a speck in the sky, but as she rapidly closed the distance, it resolved into the shape of one of the aliens. And when she closed enough to clearly see the human, she was so shocked that her speed dropped out of the trans-sonic zone.

It was the alien she had saved the night before. And it was bleeding, and seemed like it was throwing... _something_ that she could sort-of-see but sort-of-not-see up into the sky. Briefly, Rainbow Dash wondered if it was crazy, but then turned to look up herself, and saw distant specks high in the sky, what the alien seemed to be aiming at.

Then something _twisted_, and down became _up_ and _up_ became _down_, and she spiraled out of control into down/up and nearly puked from the sudden and instantaneous reorientation of gravity playing hay with her extremely sensitive and fine-tuned Pegasus sense of equilibrium. By the time she managed to sort herself out, she had 'lost' several hundred feet of altitude, and was now much higher above the surface of Equestria.

As she took in her surroundings once more, it also became clear that whatever was affecting her, was affecting the alien _much_ more strongly, as he was being yanked upwards, despite clearly trying to resist (though she wasn't sure how he was flying without wings), and now occasionally _kicking_ out the somethings that he'd been throwing upward earlier. His struggles were wild and fitful though, the thingies he was kicking off flying off in almost random directions, and considering what she had just experienced herself, and the fact that he was injured, it wasn't hard for Dash to figure out what was wrong.

Growling to herself, she turned and dove 'down' towards the encroaching specks, not entirely sure _what_ she intended to do, but determined to do _something_. She was forced to continually correct her course, as 'up' kept shifting relative to her, but Rainbow Dash wasn't called the best flier in Equestria for nothing. Once she cleared a certain distance from the alien, the disorienting up/down changing effect stopped, and she was able to _really _push some speed.

Unfortunately, she couldn't push _enough_ speed. Just as she was getting high enough to identify the aircraft as actually being _space_craft, they began to move away, and they were _faster_ than her. Worse, they were dragging the injured alien up with them, whose struggles were fading quickly as he was pulled past her.

So Dash poured on some more speed, and angled for the alien; if she couldn't catch the spaceships, maybe she could catch the alien.

Then the spaceships accelerated _again_, and Dash found herself being rapidly left behind.

"Blast," Rainbow Dash said, shaking her hoof up at the retreating spaceships, before turning into a dive, intent on finding what had happened to Fluttershy.

((()))

End Chapter one, if not earlier.

((()))

AN: I would have liked to make the battle a bit more intense, but that's not a relevant part of the narrative just yet. Ah well; things to look forward to later.


	20. Naruto Habanero Quest through 100313

Habanero Quest.

AN: This is another port over from the SB forum, this time a quest-style interactive story/game. The essential elements are that GM (me) kicks the story off, and regularly give the players (the people posting on the thread) votes about what to have the character do. There's a few mechanical elements I use(d) to determine how combat resolves, and some of the rules are included after the brief story snippet that starts things off. If you want to skip about a page of rules-notes, just scroll down until you get to the bolded 'waaaah' further down. There are also a couple bits included in this that are Q&A's between the author and the players, which help develop the world and setting for the story.

Finally, if you're interested in more, look for the thread in the BROB section of the SpaceBattles Forum; my screen-name is the same there as here.

((()))

You are in a warm, safe place; there is pain, but you've experienced worse.

Even if you can't remember _what_ hurt more than this just now; pressure, pressure, pushing, contraction...

Not a very pleasant thing.

Still, this is to be a happy thing you know, on an instinctive level, a thing of life, new beginnings (Even if you don't remember your past involvement with such a beginning. You must have been though, you could hardly be here otherwise, right?)

Another push, _another_ push, _another_ push, and then...

Crying, screaming, a new word for you:

_Mother_.

…

…

…

Biwako looks up at you, arms full of squalling life, and smiles.

"Congratulations Kushina, you're a mother, you've given birth to..."

((()))

Quest start!

You are Kushina Uzumaki, elite Jounin of Konoha, Jinchuuriki of the Ninetails, and (semi-secretly) wife of the Yondaime Hokage!

You have just given birth to:

1. A bouncing baby boy!

2. An adorable baby girl!

3. Bouncing adorable twins! (1 boy, 1 girl.)

Character creation time...

Skills and Attributes:

Kushina was noted for unique Ninjutsu (chakra chains) and Fuinjutsu, the Uzumaki talent for sealing. Notably, she taught the Fourth Hokage part of his Sealing knowledge.

Scale:

To give players an idea of how this works, it's roughly like Dark Heresy, but more consistent. At certain times when the character engages in an action relevant to a skill, I will roll 10d10, and lower results are better. The further under the character's skill, the more awesome the result is, the higher above it is, the worse the result is. Rolling above or below current skill does not automatically result in a success or failure.

Civilian: 0-10

Academy Student: 11-20

Genin: 21-35

Chuunin: 36-50

Jounin: 51-75

S-rank/Kage: 76+

For those not familiar, Special Jounin have Jounin level in _one _skill, and Chuunin in at least the other 3 primaries. Kage have S/Kage-rank in _all three _of the primaries. Jounin have Jounin-rank in at least one primary and 2 supplemental, more commonly all 3 primaries.

Disciplines:

Each player may pick _one_ discipline or chakra attribute. Once character formation is completed, I will up the chosen attributes by an amount proportionate to the number of people who picked it. Kushina was an S-rank Jounin combatant, but not necessarily Kage-level, so she'll have at least 1 S-rank skill and 2 Jounin-rank, 1 of which will be amongst the primary 3.

**EACH PLAYER PICK ONE TO ADD TO:**

Primary three:

Ninjutsu (Chakra chains special technique folded in here): 45 (57)

Genjutsu: 46 (55)

Taijutsu (includes physical fitness): 45 (48)

Supplemental:

Kenjutsu (tied to Taijutsu): 45 (51)

Sealing: 51 (84)

Medical: 36 (51)

Stealth (include perception/detection): 45 (60)

Traps: 46 (Kushina was a prankster)

Infiltration (disguises, information gathering, etc): 40

Note: Kenjutsu is better than Taijutsu. Period. A person with 50 Kenjutsu skill, fighting a person with 50 Taijutsu skill in a straight melee, _will win_. Reach and lethality of weapons are simply overwhelming advantages in such a circumstance. It is _not_ however, always a viable option. Infiltration missions rarely make carrying a sword possible, it's not something you can easily carry on your person at all times like a kunai or shuriken, and it's much easier to disarm someone of a sword. Further, intense Taijutsu specialists, like Maito Gai, will have equipment like armored bracers and special techniques to put themselves on a parity. In melee against a foe who is _not_ specifically prepared however, Kenjutsu _will_ dominate. Also, there are magically-awesome swords in-setting.

Chakra Attributes:

Upping Ninjutsu, Genjutsu, and Medical will raise these by inference. Putting a point directly in one of these raises it more than raising one of the 3 related skills does.

Chakra pool: 120 (Kushina is a Jounin, _and_ an Uzumaki, _and_ a Jinchuuriki. She has more Chakra than most Kage.)

Chakra Control: 36 (58)

Chakra recovery rate: 100 (About middle of the pack for Kage. Again, Jounin/Uzumaki/Jinchuuriki.)

Control of Kyuubi Chakra: 35 (41)

Final starting notes:

I am an author by trade, and if a vote goes completely against the character's nature, I'm extremely unlikely to follow it unless it's supported overwhelmingly. Further, while I believe that the Naruto-verse, like the real world, is an unpleasant place with many evil and broken people doing nasty things within it, I don't do the whole 'anti-villain' thing for protagonists. If the players _do_ evolve Kushina into an evil bitch, I'm probably going to drop the quest. If you want somebody who tends to walk just the far side of evil, go play It's a Good Day for Ninja Science quest, it's pretty well-written.

Mechanically, I'm giving each player _one_ 'win' die. This basically means that at any one point during the quest, you can have one of the 10d10 I roll to determine action results count as a 0. Yes, that means it is an impossibly low die, but that's why it is a 'win' die. Obviously, crappy rolls on the remaining d10's can make that 'win' die usage mostly worthless, so it's best to have a player consensus using a lot of them at once, to minimize your chance of getting shafted on the rolls regardless.

Vote-wise, if you don't precede your vote at a given time with an [x], I'm not likely to bother counting it. I won't specifically exclude it, but I'm going to be using page-search functions to find votes. Also, when I post options at the end of a story post, they're just going to be general guidelines, I favor write-ins; not huge, intricately detailed write-ins (though if you're _really _good with one, I may use it anyways), but 'outline' write-ins, such as 'Draw sword, stand ready. If X person moves, attack with chakra chains, If X person doesn't, keep trying to talk. If more baddies show up, gauge strength and flee if at disadvantage, attack if not.' Giving reasoning as to why you favor said actions is also approved of.

Finally, more 'win' dice can be won via awesome-write-ins, and tallying votes for the GM, to save me from having to burn time on that. There won't be a win die given every time, but if you're consistently awesome, I'll start giving you win dice every once in a while. If everybody is awesome all the time, it is (remotely) conceivable that you'll have as many as 5 win dice to spend on every single action that needs a roll.

Social interaction _never_ requires a roll.

Taijutsu option: Ranma, Kino Makoto

Kenjutsu option: Kamina, Saber

Ninjutsu option: Negi Springfield, Lina Inverse

Fuinjutsu option: Rock (Black Lagoon), Tohsaka Rin

Genjutsu option:

Medical option: Doctor McNinja?, Miyafuji (Strike Witches Quest)

Chakra Capacity= value ^2?

Civilian=1-100

Student=121-400

Genin=441-1225

Chuunin=1296-2500

Jounin=2601-5625

Kage=5775+

Kushina=16,900 chakra. Restores at a rate of .29 per second when active, .58 when resting.

Restoration rate= % of Chakra restored with 8 hours rest, or 16 hours awake. Extreme exhaustion can diminish this for a time.

Control:

When conducting a nin or genjutsu, or a medical technique, subtract a percentage from the technique's chakra cost equal to the character's control, maximum reduction equaling character's chakra control score, minimum total technique cost equaling 10% of its base cost.

E-ranks: (basic 3)

Kawarima: 25

Bunshin: 20

Henge: 15

Sample D-ranks: (basic 5 elements)

Goukyaku, Great Fireball: 50 chakra (High dodgability, damage and area.)

Wind Bullet: 40 chakra (Low dodgability, single target, low damage.)

Earth Spear: 60 chakra (Utility technique.)

Electric Arc: 50 chakra (High damage, Point blank range, dodge by being out of range.)

Water Bullet: 40 chakra (Low dodgability, single target, low damage.)

Sample C-ranks:

Shunshin (speed blitz): 100 chakra.

Phoenix Fire (hail of fireballs): 80 chakra. (low damage, low dodgability, broad area.)

Breakthrough technique: 85 chakra (broad area concussive force, low/no damage, hard to dodge.)

Earth Passage (mole technique): 30 to initiate, 1/sec maintain.

Lightning Burst (short-range lightning bolt: 100 chakra. (Short range, high damage, low dodgability)

Water Lance: 75 chakra. (medium damage, range, and dodgeability.)

Sample B-ranks:

Shadow Shuriken Clone: 100-300+ chakra, effect varies based on expenditure.

Fire Dragon: 200 chakra, controlled flame dragon. High damage, dodgability depends on control.

Great Breakthrough technique:195 chakra, almost undodgable, medium damage, can be forced through.

Earth Wall technique: 150 chakra, creates dome or wall of earth, defensive technique.

Inner Earth Decapitation: 100 chakra, drag target into the earth up to their neck, trapping them.

Lightning Dragon: 185 chakra, controlled electrical dragon. High damage, evasion depends on control.

Water Dragon: 195 chakra, controlled water dragon. High damage, evasion depends on control.

Sample A-ranks:

((()))

"_**WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"**_

"And your baby has some very _healthy_ lungs," Biwako said, grinning as she gently wiped blood and amniotic flood off of a bawling little blond baby, "Takes after his mother wouldn't you-_hrk!_"

Biwako had twitched an instant before a sword erupted from her chest; from the angle, you can see that it missed her heart (Biwako _is_ a ninja, that twitch probably saved her life), but had almost certainly severed her spine. Biwako was also a ninja of _Konoha_, and her first instinct was to throw the newly-born baby to his mother.

Unfortunately, the nin that had just stabbed her in the back literally, was faster, and he grabbed your baby before Biwako could get him to you. He's wearing a black body-suit with the outline of armor beneath it, a red swirling mask, and holding your _new-born son with a sword to his throat._

"_Release the Kyuubi,_" He demands.

Oh, and you're still in labor. Twins and all.

Wat Do?

→ Attack mask-man with chakra chains.

→ Attack mask-man with kunai. Kunoichi; always armed, yeah?

→ Attack mask-man with bare hands. Only appropriate response to taking baby is strangling.

→ Use Hiraishin Kunai to summon hubby. Dealing with vermin is what you keep the man around for anyways, right?

→ Cry like an overly-emotional woman whose baby has just been kidnapped. You _are_ in labor.

((()))

Event rolls, first is Kushina or Minato, second is Tobi.

First action, distract/divert, we are emotional woman.

..9.5=46

..1.10=44

Second action, summon Minato.

..8.1=36

..2.8=48

Third action, use Chakra Chains.

..1.3=45

..7.3=51

Minato's attack:

..7.0=48

..6.10=44

((()))

Bitch stole your baby. Well, you're not called the 'Red-Hot-Blooded Habanero' for no reason.

"I'M IN LABOR YOU IDIOT, and you just KILLED THE MIDWIFE, so now you get to FILL IN FOR HER! GET YOUR HANDS DOWN HERE, I'LL SEND OUT THE KYUUBI AFTERWARDS!"

Somehow, this manages to be awkward enough that mask-man pauses for a fraction of a second. Something along the lines of a tenth of a second, to your estimation (and time measurements, what with all the _contractions,_ have very much been on your mind lately.)

For a civilian, it would be unnoticeable. For a Genin, it would be a noticeable hesitation. For a Jounin, it would be an opportunity. For an S-rank badass like yourself, it's an eternity.

A brilliant yellow flash fills the small enclosure, and your husband erupts from the glowing seal on your belly, murder in his eyes. For some people, mucking about with a Bijuu seal might be a worrisome proposition, but _screw that_, you're a bloody _Uzumaki_, and nobody does seals like you do.

"HUSBAND KUCHIYOSE NO JUTSU, BITCH!" You scream, your face as red with rage as your hair, as you lash out at the man with your chakra chains, Minato instinctively maneuvering to work with you, falling into a synchonicity earned of long experience and intimacy.

Mask-man threatened to cut your baby's throat, but _nobody_ is faster than the Yellow Flash, and he's left with a choice between getting stabbed to death himself and cutting your baby, or running like a little sissy-boy from your badass husband/wife combo.

He runs like a little sissy-boy.

Your baby is swept up in the protective embrace of your golden chakra chains, swiftly pulling him into your arms. Minato's eyes turn towards you for a fraction of a second, and in that second, all that is necessary is communicated.

_Go kill that sumbitch._

_I will._

Another contraction begins, and Minato is gone, pursuing the sissy boy in the kiddie-mask. The adrenaline in your system begins to crash, and you burst into real tears, desperately clutching your firstborn to your chest, even as your body struggles to expel your second baby into the waiting world, with no-one there to help.

_Wat Do?_

→ Wall yourself in with Chakra chains. _Nobody_ else is touching you or your babies until Minato is back.

→ Biwako isn't looking good; you're no med-nin, but you know a thing or few.

→ Hustle it back to Konoha. It isn't safe out here.

→ Write in.

AN: The win dice literally made the difference on every single roll. Tobi is more skilled than you in most things, and without them, somebody (not him) would have died.

((()))

Konoha psych 101, _those who abandon their friends are worse than trash_. Kakashi-chan likes to say it often enough, you don't think you could forget that if you _wanted_ to.

Also, having the ability to extend corporeal chakra constructs and manipulate them at will? _Crazy Awesome_. It's part of why you're such a badass, and it's what lets you pick up Biwako's comatose, bleeding-out body, and drag it up onto the bed with you, even though you're already holding a baby, and in labor.

You may be _The Boss_ right now, but you _The Boss_ is in _pain._

You're still better off than Biwako though; looks like mask-wuss really wanted to mess her up; he tore his sword out of her chest _sideways_, cutting clear through her right lung and slashing her arm pretty badly too. It's probably a good thing the edge was facing that direction, you've no doubt that he would have cut her heart in half out of preference.

Crap. There's blood and pus bubbling out of the gash, and her breast was pretty much cut in half. This is big-league stuff; it might not need _Tsunade_, but you wouldn't want to trust it to anyone other than her proteges. But none of them are here.

"_SCREW THIS SHIT, YOU'RE NOT DYING ON ME GRANNY!"_

Twisting the chains around the lot of you in a protective cocoon, you dump half your chakra into the barrier, both as a defensive measure, and to allow you finer control of your remaining (still Kage-level) reserves.

"Let's _heal_ this shit," You snarl, glaring at the wound like it killed your grandmother.

Which it may actually be trying to do.

With the deftest touch you can manage, you carefully form the specific chakra technique designed to regenerate Brionchioles, and set to work.

.

..

…

Six hours later, when an ANBU team (with 'Dog') finds you, Biwako is still alive. She's not in the best shape, but she _is_ still alive. Also, you're breast-feeding both babies at once, and demand that they carry you back to Konoha inside of your Chakra-cocoon.

((()))

Your husband is an idiot.

Also, apparently he is now a _comatose_ idiot. They found him next to the (dismembered) corpse of the mask-wuss, who Sarutobi says he recognizes as Madara Uchiha. Whatever.

Apparently, the old grouch decided to pick up his argument with the Hokage up from where he left off with the Shodai fiftyish years ago, and bit off more than he could chew. That'll teach him to mess with _your_ man.

Unfortunately, it appears that old man Madara melted his eyeballs out of his sockets, using Tsukiyomi on Minato a bajillion times or so; didn't keep your man from killing him, but it _has_ left him in a coma.

And just after you gave birth too, the jerk.

Gramps Sarutobi's just about a wreck, driving the docs down at the hospital nuts, badgering them about Biwako's condition; he even sent Jiraiya off to drag Tsunade back, not that you blame him, his wife's life (and rack) being on the line and all.

Unfortunately, this has left you, Orochimaru, and _Danzo_ as the only remaining active S-rank Shinobi in the village, with you and Orochimaru being the two senior-most active Jounin. Nara Shikaku was only just appointed as Jounin Commander, and isn't really up to running the village with the Hokage out of commission, and the ANBU commander is busy keeping a raised security alert going.

_Somebody_ is going to have to take control of the village's operations in the morning (it's only an hour before dawn), and if you don't do it, you can be damn certain snake-face or bandages will do it, and you're not sure if you trust bandages to step back down if he gets his bony ass on the Hokage's chair.

Also, you've been awake for 36 hours, fought an S-class zombie, saved someone's life, and given birth twice since you last slept. You're _damn tired_.

Wat do?

→ Write in.

→ Write in.

→ Write in.

→ Write in.

((()))

"Good morning si-er..."

You give the Chuunin who just walked into the Hokage's office a _look_. Considering the bags under your eyes, how your hair is sticking up all over the place, the pair of shadow-clones who are taking turns making paper airplanes out of the paperwork on the desk and then shooting the airplanes down with wind bullets, the one baby under your shirt attached to your chest, and the other red-headed baby being on the desk being changed by four of your chakra chains, it is one _hell_ of a look.

"Hokage-sama is having a lie-in this morning," You tell him shortly, "Whaddaya want?"

"Er, um," He says, holding up a thermos, "Hokage-sama's morning coffee is ready?"

"It'd be bad for the babies," You inform him matter-of-factly, "Now go get me some more diapers, some ramen with pickles, and send somebody to fetch Orochimaru, I want to talk to ol' snake-face."

He hesitates for a second, and you can see the question rising in his eyes, '_why are you in the Hokage's chair?' _But you _glare_ at him some more, and he _moves_.

((()))

"Good morning, Uzumaki-kun," Orochimaru says, walking in, looking as smooth and unruffled as ever, "I understand you wanted to see me?"

The jerk; what business does he have looking _well-rested_ when you're dealing with a bunch of immature infants on no sleep?

And your babies too.

"Yeah, snake-face," You grump at him, sealing the room against eavesdropping with an arc of chakra channeled through one of your chains into the seal arrays Minato has installed around the room, "Some asshole tried to steal my babies last night, Minato beat the shit out of him. Apparently, it was Madara Uchiha, yeah, the old goat who fought with the Shodaime fifty years ago-"

"Forty years, Uzumaki-kun," Orochimaru interjects 'helpfully.'

You give him a _look_, then continue.

"Apparently, he hadn't aged anywhere remotely near enough to be a hundred years-

"Eighty-seven years," Orochimaru interjects again

"_A Hundred Years_," You continue, giving him your 'I'm a hormonal woman, do _not_ argue with me' glare, "He melted his eyes out trying to keep Minato from killing him, failed of course, but if he figured out some sort of anti-aging technique, I want it figured out, and you're the best man we've got for the job in the village right now."

"Right now?" Orochimaru asks, his ego faintly offended, "Who else, pray tell, could match my expertise on the matter of immortality techniques?"

"It's medical shit," You say flatly, resisting the urge to whap him over the head with one of your chakra chains (he'd just dodge anyways), "And Biwako took a sword through the chest from the same retard who tried to take my babies."

Orochimaru's eyes widen slightly as he realizes what that means.

"That's right, snake-face," You say, nodding with some satisfaction, "The old man sent Jiraiya off to drag Tsunade back to take care of his wife. I did a pretty good job of stabilizing her and regenerating her lung, but I don't have the best finesse for neural work. It'll take a day, tops, for Tsunade to sort out the lingering spinal damage, so if you want to be the one to go over Madara's corpse, instead of her, you'd better go stake your claim now."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Orochimaru says ingratiatingly, giving you a small bow (as always with him, it's impossible to tell if it's respectful or mocking), "In return, I would suggest you put a genjutsu over the blonde infant, at least if you wish for your marriage to Namikaze-sama to remain secret."

You look down, and see that little Naruto's head has popped up from the collar of your shirt. Huh; probably would have noticed that if you were more awake.

When you look up, Orochimaru is already gone.

_Wat do?_

→ In regards to Genjutsu on behbe.

→ In regards to being hungry and sleep deprived, while you are wary of messing with stimulants due to your babies breast-feeding.

→ What else do you think is important to do in the aftermath of last night's debacle?

((()))

AN: Okay, a couple world-building bits. First, I'm setting the tech level for the setting at roughly 50's, real world. This means TV, Radio, and records for media, electrical power is proliferate, cars, trains, and metal-hulled vessels all exist. Aircraft will exist in some form or another, though I haven't decided just how. Konoha and the other ninja villages do _not_ possess automobiles, because they're _ninja_ villages, and no conventional roads into and out of the villages were created, due to security concerns. Some of the civilians in Konoha (the only village with a significant civilian population) have been lobbying for an open road between Konoha and the rest of Fire to be created, now that the third shinobi war is truly in the past, and the permittance of automobiles within.

As to guns; they exist. Up to and including artillery and machine guns; they're a serious threat to academy students and genin (meaning more focus on stealth/infiltration for them), but Chuunin-level ninja have enough chakra-augmented physical durability to make anything smaller than anti-material weapons useless, and can hear and track artillery shells well enough to avoid them. The third war saw limited use of firearms amongst some ninja, but prior to that point, the technology hadn't been advanced enough for it to keep up with Ninja with shuriken and Kunai. Traditionalists (like Danzo and the Hyuuga) despise modern weaponry, and support the superiority of their favored techniques (For Danzo this means being an asshole, for the Hyuuga this means using modified Jyuuken to poke bullets out of the air.)

I'm, in part, using this quest as a testbed to develop my own AU Naruto cannon for a Naruto fic I will be writing further down the road, so I'm opening the thread up to worldbuilding discussion. Where worldbuilding discussion is defined as 'Changing the Naruto world enough for it to start making some sense.' As with the above description, part of this means that while Konoha looks very similar to canon, the world it is set in does not. Also, no atomic bomb at this time.

Finally, Darik29 (who I keep wanting to refer to as 'cookie') has earned himself another win die for keeping vote/chargen tally for me.

((()))

Two hours after 'Rochi's gone, you've passed orders to the ANBU to keep an information blackout regarding the massive chunk of wrecked forest where hubby and Madara (the sissy Uchiha pretty-boy) fought, and successfully recruited Yoshino Nara into helping you with the smaller stuff. Which mostly means she's browbeaten Shikaku himself into handling the fiddly paperwork bits from the outer office, while she watches the behbes, and you _sleep_ in the inner office.

Fortunately, you're too exhausted for dreams; you doubt they would have been pleasant after the previous night.

When you wake up, it's night, and someone is trying to enter the office without your authorization; a foolhardy task at best with the seals of both Minato _and_ yourself warding the thing. No defense is absolute, but anything less than a Bijuu Bomb would take intense time and skill to penetrate the security of the office, and warn you at the first attempt to break in. And considering that only Jiraiya, Tsunade, the Old Man, Minato, Yoshino, Shikaku, and the head of ANBU were on the 'permit' list when you went to sleep, whoever this is had better have a _damn_ stiff constitution to have dared interrupt your beauty sleep.

Wouldn't want to be any more of a mess than we need to be when hubbie wakes up, after all, need to be pretty for Mina-kun.

You rouse yourself, wipe the drool off your shirt, and glance over at Yoshino, who is skillfully managing both of your babies and her own son with the consummate skill of an Alpha Female. You stroll over, have a brief chat with Nara-chan about what happened while you were unconscious (nothing important, except that apparently 'Dog' has appointed himself as Minato's bodyguard while he's unconscious, and refuses to leave his side), then head over to the large window facing the Hokage monument, that some idiot is trying to open.

Surprise surprise, it's Bandages.

...You're really not sure how you want to handle the idiot right now. Your inner mother says to open the window, punch him into the monument, and have done with it, but that _might_ piss him off. And even if he's retired, only desk-jockey and total badass ninja live to retirement.

_Wat do?_

→ Mister Face meet Mister Fist, he has something momentous to say to you!

→ "Come on in Bandages. You could have just tried the front door."

→ "Come on in Bandages, I need someone to take over diaper-changing duty."

→ Ignore him.

→ Write-in?

((()))

The margins were pretty narrow, but this seemed to make the most sense between player choice and character-appropriateness. Also, now that you've slept, you get a semi-finalized character sheet!

Skills and Attributes:

Kushina was noted for unique Ninjutsu (chakra chains) and Fuinjutsu, the Uzumaki talent for sealing. Notably, she taught the Fourth Hokage part of his Sealing knowledge.

Scale:

To give players an idea of how this works, it's roughly like Dark Heresy, but more consistent. At certain times when the character engages in an action relevant to a skill, I will roll 10d10, and lower results are better. The further under the character's skill, the more awesome the result is, the higher above it is, the worse the result is. Rolling above or below current skill does not automatically result in a success or failure.

Civilian: 0-10

Academy Student: 11-20

Genin: 21-35

Chuunin: 36-50

Jounin: 51-75

S-rank/Kage: 76+

For those not familiar, Special Jounin have Jounin level in _one _skill, and Chuunin in at least the other 3 primaries. Kage have S/Kage-rank in _all three _of the primaries. Jounin have Jounin-rank in at least one primary and 2 supplemental, more commonly all 3 primaries.

Disciplines:

Kushina has Jounin-level Kenjutsu, _Medical_, Stealth, _Chakra Control_, and Genjutsu. She has high Chuunin Taijutsu and Trapmaking skill, and regular Chuunin Infiltration skills (hot temper and very distinguishing physical characteristics and all).

She has S-rank sealing skills; her husband and Jiraiya are the only two superior sealing masters in the known world, and between her _immense_ chakra reserves and frankly insane chakra control for a Jinchuuriki, trying to run her out of chakra in a fight would take multiple kage-level opponents. And then she can whip out the Kyuubi.

On the whole, she's an unholy terror on the battlefield, especially because she's best known for fighting alongside either the Yondaime, or Mikoto Uchiha at any and all times, taking the Konoha teamwork ethic deeply to heart.

Primary three:

Ninjutsu (Chakra chains special technique folded in here): 60

Genjutsu: 55

Taijutsu (includes physical fitness): 50

Supplemental:

Kenjutsu (tied to Taijutsu): 52

Sealing: 90

Medical: 51

Stealth (include perception/detection): 60

Traps: 46

Infiltration (disguises, information gathering, etc): 40

Chakra Attributes:

Chakra pool: 120

Chakra Control: 59

Chakra recovery rate: 108

Control of Kyuubi Chakra: 41

((()))

Stat-ups are now closed; the final bit of character creation is as follows:

**Sealing specialization, pick _ONE_:**

Time/space manipulation (Minato's specialty, not recommended by GM)

Physical property manipulation (altering the physical characteristics of anything you can get a seal to adhere to)

Elemental chakra manipulation (Seal makes elemental chakra effects)

Nature chakra manipulation (You don't need no stinkin' sage training!)

Regular Chakra storage and manipulation (Because you didn't have enough chakra capacity, you decided to make batteries capable of holding more, and then _doing_ things.)

Biological manipulation. (I AM MAD SCIENTIST OF THE LIVING THINGS! BWAHAHAHA!)

You will have some capabilities with all of them, this is to choose which you are naturally inclined towards and have pushed the bounds of understanding with. Also, if he ever comes out of the coma, Minato will be a regular study-buddy for seal-work, and you'll be able to get him to use his specialization to your advantage sometimes.

**Chakra Affinity, pick ONE or TWO, if two, lesser mastery of both.**

Earth

Water

Lightning

Fire

Air

Note that in this AU, _physics_ determines how elements run against each other. Not BS fiat. This means that air doesn't auto-loose to fire, and earth trumps the hell out of lightning in most circumstances.

Now go vote, Puppe-, er, I mean _players!_

((()))

Questions on sealing:

Can you seal liquids inside?

You can use a storage steal to store liquids. If the medium can be damaged by liquids, you will have to account for that in the sealing.

2) How much chakra does it take to seal an object inside? Does it scale with the size of a sealed object? With its weight? With both? Is sealing organic matter harder than inorganic?

Standard storage seals come in a few common varieties:

Stores a designated type of item, which is described in the seal matrix. Any item reasonably within the described parameters can be stored and removed until the seal is damaged or destroyed, and require some chakra expenditure on the part of the user, attempting to store something inappropriate destroys the seal, and possibly the item. Example items: Kunai, Shuriken, hitai-ate, food pills. Attempting to store living material with these almost invariably results in failure.

'Store anything' seals. These have an amount of chakra imbued into them at creation, and it is expended in quantity dependent upon what is stored within. Once the chakra is used, it becomes useless; commonly configured to not store anything that would consume too much chakra to be able to remove again. Storing living matter in these is almost invariably lethal to stored matter.

Specialized seals. More 'not rare' than 'common,' these are created by a fuinjutsu adept, and attuned to a specific user's chakra. That user may then seal and unseal anything they wish, within the limits of their chakra; these are generally expensive. In this continuity, Tenten's weapons scrolls are in this category, and are something of a big deal for a genin to have.

3) What is the biggest thing you can seal into a scroll?

How much chakra do you have? The chakra demand for storage increases faster than the item stored, and both volume and mass are factors; the proportional increase isn't as steep as the square/cube law though.

4) Does the size of the seal matter? Can you seal bigger / heavier objects into bigger seals? What about a long thin object (a shaft of a spear, for example) - can you seal it into a small seal?

The physical size of the seal does not matter, the accuracy and complexity of its script, the 'code' that defines it, does. Larger capacity storage seals require at least somewhat greater complexity, and thus either finer script, or more space.

5) Can you seal living objects (frogs) into sealing scrolls?

If there is a technique for storing living matter within a storage seal without killing it, it is a tightly held secret not known to Minato, Jiraiya, Kushina, or Sarutobi, 4 of the top fuinjutsu masters living.

6) What are seals made of? They can be drawn - is the ink special? Are there different sealing inks? Can seals be printed? Can they be branded onto something? If a metal was worked into a form of a seal, would it be usable as a seal? What if you made a series of channel / impression in some surface in a shape of a seal - would this work? What about if you filled the channel with something? If you filled it with special ink (if it is used for seals)? What about shadows? If you made a projector that would make a shadow puppet in the form of a seal - will this work as a seal? What about light in the same shape?

Any medium which can carry chakra reasonably coherently, and be shaped into the appropriate characters for a seal, can be used to create a seal. The durability of the medium used can be an important factor (for obvious reasons), but if you _really_ wanted, you could train a Nara to create seals with their shadows. That means that in this continuity, sealing is done with special inks, or ink mixed with the fuinjutsu adept's blood in a pinch.

7) Do seals need to be charged?If yes, does the seal need to be charged immediately after it is created? Can you make a seal and activate/charge it afterwards? Can you charge it overtime or do you need to charge it in one go?

A seal does need to be charged with chakra. Until it is charged, it is simply a complex scribble, and so long as the medium can carry chakra, it can be turned from 'scribble' to 'chakra' at any time. Part of a seal master's art is learning a couple tricks that, as part of the charging, make the medium much more difficult to disrupt or damage. A seal can be charged over time; there is no reliable method currently, however, for getting a seal to accept chakra from more than one source, and the more complex a seal is, the more finicky it is about accepting chakra, to the point where anything above moderate complexity won't even accept chakra that was transferred to the seal-master via medical ninjutsu, due to it retaining some characteristics native to the donor. This is a facet of sealing that is known to be under study in every major village.

8) Can you seal seals within seals? What about inactive seals?

You can store seals within seals. Attempting to seal a storage seal within a storage seal, however, _always_ results in the loss of either one or both of the storage seals. As to inactive seals, see the above.

9) Does time pass for a sealed object? If yes, then does it pass at the same rate as for the rest of the world?

This is not known to current seal adepts.

10) When a seal is broken - what happens to the sealed matter? Does it get destroyed? Released? Released but damaged?

If a storage seal is broken, the stored material reverts to real space, as the dimensional pocket it is stored within is flushed back into reality. The condition of the released object depends on how large the seal was, how _full_ the seal was, and the durability of the object. Generally, items made of iron and the like come out completely intact, unless they're of fragile design.

11) Can you bend seals (sealing scrolls)? Fold them?

Distorting seals is risky business. On paper or similar naturally malleable materials, it's safe so long as the surface the seal is inscribed upon is not permanently deformed, as the actual shape of the seal has not been changed. On the other hand, taking a steel object with a seal etched onto it, then using heat to warp and deform the metal, can damage or destroy the seal. The results of the damage or destruction are dependent upon the type of seal so-damaged, and since most ninja aren't familiar with seals beyond storage seals, they have no way of knowing the results for other seals.

12) When you unseal an object - how does it appear? Does it "rise" from the scroll / seal? Does it appear wholesale, materializing above the seal?

There is a fair bit of conjecture about this, as to whether the item simply phases back into reality instantaneously, or does so so quickly that humans are incapable of perceiving it. Considering how augmented ninja (and beyond that, Uchiha), perceptions can be, that they still haven't been able to perceive a transition says a lot about how fast it would be. It is not known to 'rise' from the seal, it always, however, appears in physical contact with some part of the seal.

13) If you seal something big into a scroll, then place the scroll into some confined small space that the big sealed object can't fit into and unseal the object - what happens?

A variety of things can happen. Possible results include: The unsealed object being crushed by the confined space. The confined space being forcibly enlarged by the unsealed object. The object and the confining barriers both being damaged. Both the object and the confining barriers partially fusing with each other. Any mixture of the above. What determines the result is not currently known.

14) If the sealed matter "rises" from the scrolls, how fast does it do so? What happens if it encounters an obstacle? What happens if you destroy a scroll / seal while the sealed object is not yet fully released?

See the prior questions and answers.

15) If the sealed matter "appears" above the scroll, what happens if you seal a cage inside, place something fitting inside the cage above the scroll and do the unsealing? Does the cage appear around the object? Does it push it aside? Does it fail to appear at all (if yes, what happens if you destroy the scroll)?

Nobody has yet thought to conduct this specific experiment, or if they have, they have not shared their results.

16) If you seal something moving into a scroll, does the momentum get preserved? Momentum relative to what? The scroll surface during sealing? Center of the planet?

Momentum is not preserved by storage sealing techniques currently in use.

17) If living objects can be sealed inside the scrolls and time passes on the inside, can the seal be broken from inside? What does the sealed being experience when it is sealed?

See the above questions and answers; and no sapient test subject has survived being sealed.

18) Can storage scrolls be set to unseal on time / set to trigger on chakra pulse / set to be triggered remotely? (OOC: There is canon evidence that they can, strong one)

They can, but it requires storage seals specifically constructed to do so.

Questions on Shunshin:

Can clones use shunshin?

Shadow Clones can.

2) If you take, say, a sword, and shunshin past someone, can you decapitate them this way?

Yes.

3) If two people carry a third person or an object and shunshin in the same direction, what happens to the person / object they carry (because I am thinking razor wire stretched between clones and cutting the f*ck out of everything in its path)

Due to the nature of Shunshin in this setting, this is very nearly impossible. If a pair _did_ manage the necessary coordination, they could have exactly this effect.

4) Do you choose a path you move through before shunshin activates or during it?

Before. In the Anime/Manga, Shunshin isn't a combat technique, it's a "I'm a cool ninja, I'm going to disappear/teleport away' technique. In this continuity, Shunshin is straight line _only_, and one of the most control-intensive techniques in existence, due to the catastrophic results of failing. Managing this technique without handseals, if the timeline is not too heavily altered, will in and of itself turn Shunshin no Shisui into a low S-rank combatant, due to its massive versatile utility for both offense and defense. And pranking.

5) Can you use shunshin to run in circles? I am thinking about wind propeller no-jutsu or clearing the wide areas qucikly. Or creating tornadoes.

No.

6) How fast do you run? Subsonic? Supersonic? An estimate? In comparison to your top running speed?

This depends on the chakra expenditure. As part of the chakra expenditure is protecting oneself from high-speed collision with air-molecules and flying debris, the growth curve becomes progressively steeper the faster you go.

7) Does the speed / distance depend on how much chakra you use? If yes, than is the rise of distance / speed linear vs. chakra or less then linear?

Yes, and it is not linear.

((()))

→ Players chose _sarcasm_.

(((()))

"Bandages, what the hell are you doing at the window?" You ask, speaking loud enough for him to hear you through the seal-reinforced glass, "Get around to the front door, I need someone on diaper-duty."

He gives you an odd look, before disappearing into a shunhin.

Whatever, crazy old goat is crazy.

"So, how've the munchkins been?" You ask, turning to Yoshino, who gives you the 'tired mother smile.'

"Active," She says, "I'd have thought them a month or two from birth, rather than newborns."

"Eh," You say, stretching as you cross the room to pick up your daughter, "We're Uzumaki, we're different."

Not actually a lie, but only accurate if interpreted as two separate statements, rather than a single conjoined one; in other words, typical ninja double-speak.

"Well, they're adorable," Yoshino says with a smile, eliciting one from you as well, as you look down into your daughters bright, _curious_ blue-green eyes.

A long, happy moment of bliss passes, cut off when she tries to grab your nose.

"Ha!" You snort, "Little firebrand, just like me. Did she give you any trouble?"

"No," Yoshino said, "She scarcely made a sound, only gurgled a bit when I needed to change her diaper. The boy didn't even give me that much warning, I didn't realize he'd had a crap until I smelled it."

"And how was Shikamaru?" You ask, moving over to stand directly beside Yoshino, looking down at the boy sleeping in her arms.

"Sleepy," Yoshino says, rolling her eyes, "I swear, he's already taking after his father. Trying to get him to respond to _anything_ is altogether too much troublesome."

"Oh?" You say, directing a foxy smile at her, "You could almost say it's _troublesome_, couldn't you?"

Yoshino _glares_ at you; she does a pretty good job of it too, especially for someone who never made Jounin.

You're saved from any potential further repercussions of your joke, by a knock on the door; a twist of chakra through one of the office's security seals reveals that Bandages is, in fact, waiting in the outer office. Shifting your daughter into a shoulder carry, you head over to the door, take a moment to raise yourself to full battle awareness, and then open it.

Danzo doesn't look happy, but then the old grouch _never_ looks happy.

"So you _have_ come to help with the diapers!" You say brightly, and you _almost_ manage to get an expression out of him.

"Jounin Uzumaki," He says flatly, "I am unaware as to the reasoning behind you commandeering the Hokage's office to serve as a nursery for your newborns, but I am here to ensure the safety of the village, and-"

"That's lovely Bandages," You inform him with a sweet smile, "It's always nice to have concerned citizens around, but unless you're here to change diapers, we really don't have any need for help from an aged _civilian_ in the _Hokage's_ office at this time."

This time, you _do_ manage to elicit the slightest frown from the grim grouch (Maybe a new nickname? Grich? Grinch? You'll have to think about it), but he doesn't take the hint.

"I have served for many years as an adjunct to the Hokage, both as an advisor and-"

"A role you filled with the _Sandaime_," You cut him off, deadly serious this time, "A relationship you did _not_ enjoy with Yondaime-sama, who relies upon Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and _myself_ as advisors and emissaries. While your concern as a _civilian_ is _appreciated_, any questions you may have can be directed to the duty Chuunin in the Hokage Tower lobby."

"Do not play games with me," _Oh, he's pissed now, he's actually growling at you!_ "The Yondaime lies in a coma in the hospital, Sarutobi is occupied with his wife, and I have been unable to discern what has happened."

"Interesting," You remark, extruding a trio of chakra chains to gently convey your daughter back to Yoshino, "That you, _a civilian_, would be in possession of such _highly classified_ information. Do you know who was the last person to speak with the Yondaime before he was rendered comatose?"

"I hardly-" He begins, but you cut him off by the simple expedient of pointing your trio of chakra chains directly at him, and he's not lost his edge anywhere _near_ enough to ignore that.

"_I was_," You flatly inform him, "One of the _current_ Hokage's attendants. And I am not at liberty discuss the contents of said conversation _with a civilian_ at this time. So," You step forward, and shove him back out of the doorway of the office, "Unless you wish to reinlist, which I believe would be an issue for the Jounin-Commander," You nod towards Shikaku, who is watching the exchange closely, "To handle, as you are a retired Jounin, I suggest you _stop_ sticking your nose into _classified_ state secrets, before I have you arrested for the knowledge you _already_ illegally possess."

Danzo's jaw works visibly, but he says nothing as you stare at him for a long, long minute.

"Now," You say, stepping back into the office, "If you wish to be _of assistance_ to Konoha in this time, I would suggest you turn those _far too perceptive_ ears of yours towards learning what _other_ agents of hostile powers may have heard through our apparently _compromised_ security around Yondaime-sama, and keep said information from moving beyond the village walls. _Good Night_, Shimura-san."

Then you slam the door in his face, with no small amount of satisfaction.

((()))

Immediate issues have been handled, at least somewhat, _Wat Do?_

→ Now that we're awake, look into information security more.

→ Look into what Orochimaru's found about the attacker.

→ Check up on Minato

→ Spend time with Behbes.

→ Combination(s) of the above?

→ Write in.

A reminder again, the options given are suggestions, not 'These are your only options.'

As to the voting on specialties, total number of votes was kind of low, so I'm leaving the seal/element specialization voting open still. As it stands, it's leaning towards Chakra storage and manipulation for sealing, Water/Air for elements.

((()))

→ Clones are the path to power!

((()))

A trio of _you_ pops into existence, and after sharing a quick nod, the other three head off to attend to various other tasks, while you collect your babies from Yoshino.

"Thank you for taking care of the little tykes for me," You tell her with a smile, "And kicking Shikaku into gear. I've got to go check on Yondaime-sama now. Dog's probably not let himself sleep since the incident anyways."

"Go ahead," Yoshino replies with a tired smile, "It was nice to be able to see the Hokage's office in detail."

You nod and smile in a final farewell as you usher her out of the office, then activate the seals to lock the office down. It's a short walk to the exit of the Hokage tower, and you give a few nods and smiles to the ninja still in the tower on your way out, the take to the rooftops for swifter passage to the hospital. Normally, you'd jump along the way, but carrying your babies, who aren't up for the abrupt accelerations and decelerations that would involve. Instead, you adopt a rolling gait using your chakra chains as limbs; it's not as fast, but it's much smoother, with a dozen or so chains in contact with one roof or another at any given time, allowing you to move at a pretty decent clip.

You _do_ get some odd looks to the people you pass, both those looking up from street level, and the other ninja moving along the rooftops.

After a few minutes of chain-crawling, you reach the hospital, and make your way to the highest-security part of the high-security part of the security wing, where Minato's being kept, _almost_ getting there without incident.

"Uzumaki-Jounin," A voice calls, and you turn to see Yakushi Kyon, one of the senior physicians, and current head of the maternity ward, closing on you with a fire in his eyes, "I wish to know _why_ exactly, you have not brought your children in for an examination?"

Well, crap.

_Wat Do?_

→ Crap! It's a Physician with an Ego! Run!

→ Distraction! Is that a pregnant woman having a heart attack behind you? (Genjutsu?)

→ Submit to examination? (You checked to make sure your babies were in good health, but you don't know yourself what effects the Kyuubi-altered pregnancy had on them, and you're not sure if you want someone else knowing about that...)

→ Clearly this man is an impostor! Douse him with water and call the guard!

→ Write in.

Again, write-ins/modifications are preferred.

((()))

Element wins are Air and Water, seal specialization is chakra storage/manipulation. I'm working up a list of techniques you'll have available, suggestions are welcome.

I'm GMing two different games today, so I won't be doing any serious posting until at least nine hours from now.

Throw some ideas, people.

((()))

Eh. I was trying to write this as a balance between Kushina pointing out she's competent enough to know if she can afford to delay some, and accepting the examination, but I'm not entirely pleased with how it came off. Been too long between posts already though, so whatevs.

((()))

"Yakusho-sensei," You say, raising an eyebrow at him, "Have you heard of the irregularities regarding last night's activities?"

"I have, Uzumaki-Jounin," Yakushi says warily, somewhat familiar with your moods after having dropped in on your pre-natal checkups from time to time in the last few months, "I take it then that you were somehow involved in the events that brought Sarutobi-sama's wife into our care?"

"Indeed, Yakushi-sensei," You say, "I was the on-site physician who kept her stable for _six hours_ until reinforcements arrived, after I was attacked _while in labor_. I appreciate your concern Yakushi-sensei, but other events have kept me from being able to come to the hospital until now, and while it is less than ideal, I assume you are willing to trust that my own expertise is sufficient to keep my babies in good health until now."

"I was unaware of your involvement in the situation," He says apologetically, bowing slightly, "Please, however, allow me to examine your children now."

"Certainly, Yakushi-sensei," You say, nodding respectfully towards him; you'd give him a bow in return if your arms weren't full of behbe, "Let us have this examination in-"

[x] The room where Biwako is. It's your 'official reason' for coming in, and you really do what to know how she and Sarutobi are doing.

[x] Minato's room. If he's still not awake, you're not going to be able to keep his absence secret much longer, and Yakushi _will_ be asking what the babies are to be named, something the husband is supposed to be present towards anyways. This would involve letting him on both secrets; the plan was for him to be informed of the father at birth originally anyways.

[x] Whatever the nearest empty examination room is, neutral choice.

[x] Write-in.

Note that doing it in Biwako's room assumes she's stable (which you're pretty sure she is, given how you left her, but not certain), and that as the head of Pediatrics at the Konoha Hospital, Yakushi has _very_ high security clearance, since he works with pregnancies from the bloodline clans, meaning he has in-depth knowledge of possible complications based around such bloodlines. Keeping him out of the loop would be a matter of keeping the secret to as few as possible, IE need-to-know, not him lacking clearance for it.

((()))

→ Full revelation. Also, Biwako.

((()))

"This, highly-secured and ANBU guarded room," You finish, giving Yakushi a positively _angelic_ smile, as you signal for the ANBU on watch, Ostrich, to let the two of you enter Minato's room.

Ostrich looks you both over, top to bottom, but then steps aside to let you pass. You pop off another shadow clone, and send it to go visit Biwako's room, then open the door and head in.

Inside, Dog is on watch; all that's visible from the door is one of those rolling white hospital screens; when you move around it, you can see Minato, blanket-covered, hospital-gowned, with an IV stuck in his arm. Not your favorite way to see your husband, but at least he doesn't seem to be in any particular distress. When he moves around the screen, you see Yakushi-sensei tensing up in shock; it's subtle, he _is_ a Special Jounin after all, but definitely visible to your eyes.

"Wh-wh-what?" He asks, not quite up to the task of getting a coherent question out.

"It is traditional for the father to be present when the children are named, is it not?" You say, a little bitterly as you look at your husband's comatose form, silently cursing Madara from taking him away from you on what should have been the happiest day of your collective lives, "He's hardly up to taking part, but we'd already decided on Naruto and Tsunami for names."

Yakushi-sensei just gibbers for a few minutes, as he wraps his mind around the revelations, not only that the most powerful ninja in living memory has suddenly been laid low, but also that he is apparently the father of your children.

Well. How about dropping another revelation on him; he'll probably realize something's different about your babies after a detailed examination, why not just tell him you're the Jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi too while you're at it?

→ Tell him?

→ Don't tell him.

→ Go on a hormonal woman-rampage and demand pickles and ice cream.

→ Something else (Write in)?

((()))

Right. Let's try to get snappy with the votes, so I can update again tonight. I like to wait for 15ish before calling it, just FYI. Also, unless things go unexpected places, at least one of your clones should be dispersing and reporting back about the assignments they were sent on by the end of the next post.

Oh, and Cookie gets another win die for keeping tallies for me.

((()))

→ Tell him.

AN: Remember, Kushina has a _temper._

((()))

"So," You say, giving Yakushi-sensei the _serious_ eyes."While we're dishing out _S-rank secrets_, which you will _not_ be spreading around because you'll be _lucky_ if ANBU gets you first if you leak, I'm the Jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi, and for some reason almost certainly caused by this, the pregnancy lasted ten months, instead of nine."

He starts gibbering again; you take the opportunity to wheel the other bed in Minato's room around, and set your babies down on it, then go to check up on Minato, and Dog while you're at it.

Yup, Minato's comatose. Stable pulse, breathing, etc, totally unresponsive otherwise. Hope Tsunade gets back soon.

...And Dog hasn't slept since he went on duty last night. Nor eaten anything but field rations, and judging by how tense he is around the midsection, he's been holding in the crap for just as long.

"Dog," You say, reaching down to lay a hand gently on his shoulder, "You need to go get some rest. I'll watch Minato for a while."

"ANBU only answer to the Hokage," Dog says, and your nostrils flare, "I will not leave-"

He's cut off as your hand on his shoulder tightens to an iron grip, and you hurl him bodily at the door, smashing it down on his way out.

"AS YOUR ATTENDING PHYSICIAN I'M ORDERING EIGHT HOURS OF BED REST," You scream out the door after him, "IF I SEE YOU BACK HERE BEFORE DAWN, I'M SEALING YOUR CHAKRA THEN TYING YOUR ASS TO YOUR BED, GAKI!"

Then you seize the door with chakra chains, jam it back into place, and use a quick earth jutsu repair the hinges.

"I need Ice Cream before I deal with any more of this shit," You mutter under your breath as you turn your attention back to Yakushi-sensei, "And Pickles. Lots of pickles."

"Ah," He says, obviously unnerved, but not completely out of sorts anymore, "I'll send an orderly for some, then we can begin the examination. I assume you understand that it will have to be very detailed, as we've no past data on the children of Jinchuuriki."

"Yeah, yeah," You grouse, hopping up onto the bed beside your babies, and smiling down at the little tykes, "None recorded since the Sage of the Six Paths and all that."

Yakushi nods, then heads to the door to order your ice-cream, pickles, and a couple of items for himself. In the meanwhile, one of your clones disperses, it's:

→ The one that went to see Snake-Face.

→ The one that went to check on information security.

→ The other one that went to check on information security.

((()))

Also, there _are_ going to be irregularities regarding the behbes from Jinchuuriki/Kyuubi effects. At this point, I am accepting write-ins for what amount to suggested bloodline abilities; note that the two do _not_ need to be the same, and shouldn't be copies of other bloodlines that already exist in-setting. Suggestions will be open for a while, and I, as the GM, will choose a list from amongst them that suits the power level I intend, as well as the setting mechanics, and put it to a vote a few updates down the road.

((()))

→ The other one that went to check on information security.

((()))

Most people, the first time they absorbed memories from a shadow clone, got a splitting headache for hours; like most things, however, large amounts of chakra made one more resistant to the effects, and the first time you had dispelled a shadow clone, you only ended up with a _moderate_ headache. you'd been a Genin at the time; now that you were an Elite Jounin, singular clones only caused a mild sense of discomfort, which faded in a few seconds.

Integrating the memories, on the other hand...

"_Nothing we've been able to detect in or out,_"_ Penguin, the ANBU Captain currently commanding the patrol running circuit to the southeast, tells you, "But then nobody detected a thing when the Bogey was making his way in. I commandeered three Hyuuga Chuunin to cover the walls themselves, but nothing yet."_

…

"_Too quiet," Ogre, ANBU Captain for the northeast patrol, growls out, "Single S-rank operator slips in, attacks, no support, no further assault, no sign of anybody having been on overwatch, _nothing_. Doesn't make any damn sense._"

…

"_All's quiet on the Western front, Uzumaki," Walrus, Northwestern patrol captain reported, "Nothing but us shadows out here."_

…

"_Nothing but the scars from Yondaime-sama's battle," Canary, the only female captain in ANBU right now, reports, "I ordered a team of Chuunin trackers to examine the terminal point of engagement, and the Inuzuka in the group picked up a few scents, then brought out the rest of the clan to give 'em a whiff too. Filtering out the normal stuff, cotton, rubber, steel, blood, etc, there's a couple of funny ones that might lead somewhere, if they ever find the odors anywhere else, anyways."_

"_Were they able to track the intruder's path of ingress from the ambush point?" You ask._

"_No," Canary says, shaking her head, some frustration showing in her voice, "They say it's like he just appeared, right there, the way Yondaime-sama tends to."_

_Neither of you have to say aloud how frightening the prospect of a foreign nin with something like the Hiraishin is._

…

Yeah, those were the most critical bits of memory; the rest were mostly just you running from quadrant to quadrant, and getting the ANBU to actually make contact with you.

And now Yakishi-sensei is back with your ice cream and pickles!

"Gimme!" You half-shout, trying to jump towards Yakushi and realizing, rather abruptly, that even after a good nigh-er, _afternoon's_ sleep, your body is still registering complaints about being so active the day after giving birth.

Whatever. You're not letting this get between you and your ice cream, tentacle-chains _Go!_

Yakushi just rolls his eyes as you steal half the food-tray's contents.

"I see that _you_ at least are your usual boisterous self," He says wryly, setting the tray on the end table beside Minato's bed, "Now since this room is full of S-rank secrets, you're going to have to act as my assistant, since none of the orderlies are cleared for things like this."

The two of you spend a few minutes eating the food, then scrubbing up in the room's attached bathroom, before turning your full attention to your babies. In the meantime, another one of your clones pops, it's:

→ Snake-face facts.

→ Information Security Information.

((()))

Wow, the thread went dead for the whole day. So, still taking suggestions for Jinchuuriki-offspring abilities.

And as to Mito being a Jinchuuriki giving birth, considering that the Kyuubi was involved in the fight where the Shodaime died, I'm going with 'she became the Jinchuuriki after she'd already given birth.'

((()))

Questions:  
Can you dual cast jutsu and use them to boost the other?

In absolute terms, yes. In practical terms, the sheer degree of control and skill necessary for one person to do this, would require them to basically be S-rankers, specialized in control. Having multiple people throw techniques that play off of each other was, in this AU, one of the things that made Konoha the big kid on the block after the first war, as they were the first to implement it as a standardized tactic.

For example, cast Wind from one hand, and Water from another?

Yes. Again, control requirements are insane.

What about sealless casting? One handed seals?

Seals are an aid to chakra control, not the vessel of chakra control itself. Think of it like trying to do well, _anything else_ without your hands. Any physical task, anyways. You can open a latched door without your hands, using elbows, feet, etc, but it's a lot _easier_ with your hands. Similarly, you _can_ hold the handle of a knife in your mouth, and use it to chop things up, but preference would be for hands.

Practically, this means that it takes much greater skill mastery and control to use a technique without seals. Every Jounin worth their salt will have a handful of techniques they can do without needing seals (Kawarima is something most Chuunin learn to do like this), but that involves weeks of intensely training that specific technique. Half-seals (or one-handed), alternately, require substantially less mastery, and when the skillset is developed, is about two thirds as versatile as regular seals. The downside is that there are practical limits to what you can do with half seals (generally nothing above B-rank, and _never_ S-ranks) with half-seals, and you're spending the time to develop an entire skillset, that only frees up one hand. For some people, half-seals suits their style, for others, it doesn't.

Are Shadow Clones just that, or are they actually using elemental chakra? What's the difference between them and elemental clones eg Water Clones? Are there Wind Clones?

Elemental clones are animating the stated element; as they're working through a medium, they're easier to create. Fire and Lightning clones are impossible, as these are forms of energy, and air/wind is just too diffuse to really be practical, though it _is_ theoretically possible to create air clones, and some people have taken a stab at it.

Does she know Bunshin Daibakuha?

Of _course_ Kushina knows Exploding Clones. If it hadn't existed yet, she'd have _invented_ it, because _exploding clones_.

Does she have a contract? Besides "Summon Husband"?

The Uzumaki Clan had a summons contract; it was lost when Uzushio fell. Sure, she could try to go get a new one, but seriously, what beats 'Summon most powerful ninja alive for enemy beatdown, or possibly booty call depending on mood'?

What is the nature of techniques like Kisame's Water Lake thing? Is it a straight chakra to water conversion, or are you handling it as a space/time technique?

Kisame's Instant Lake is clever use of storage seals masquerading as a Ninjutsu Technique. He really _does_ have massive chakra reserves, but I am _not_ stretching ninja-magic enough to involve energy-to-matter conversion on that scale. Giving people the impression that he _can_ create that much water with chakra, however, is something he's deliberately worked on, reputation helps inspire fear, after all.

How many gods are there in this AU? Do they take an interest? What are people's relationship with religion?

I'm a Christian. As in a serious, dedicated, actually believe it for serious, Christian. I'm also not one of those ridiculously iconoclastic nutjobs who can't handle fictitious worlds being y'know, _fictitious_. So, in this setting, there is one ABSOLUTE CREATOR GOD, the big G, and many lesser gods, who were granted dominion/stewardship over various things. Think a bit like the Valar in Tolkien's work (another hardcore Christian author, and one of my inspirations for how to handle such things). These small-g deities aid those who ask it within their dominions, IE, helping a smith notice certain details he needs to work on more, etc, etc. All deities are aligned to a concept, such as industry, art, agriculture, the hunt, etc. There are no nationally or ethnically aligned deities.

The level of involvement these entities have is defined by the Creator God's edict; humans have free will, and this material realm is where they live their lives, make decisions, and live with the consequences. When a human asks for help, limited aid may be given, but as with the smith example earlier, only in helping them push their own limits, and achieve more. If we actually get to a 'the world is literally ending' point (_extremely _unlikely), that may change.

Are there chakra research institutes in the village? Or only for mundanes?

I don't really understand what you mean by this question. Please elaborate on what you mean by 'chakra research institute,' in some detail, and also 'mundanes.'

What's her poison resistance like? And her relationship with Kurama?

Kushina's poison resistance is made up of "I'm an Uzumaki, I'm full of strong life-force," and the Kyuubi giving her passive regeneration. Poisons work on very small scales within the poisoned body, shutting down key chemical interactions to domino-effect the body into failing. Such small, subtle stuff, is very easy for regeneration to take care of. It is theoretically possible for there to be a poison potent enough to do more than merely inconvenience her, but it'd probably take years to develop, copious dosage, or both.

Do the Uchiha still have a Kurama control thing?

In this continuity, the Tsukiyomi is the only illusion technique _known_ to be effective against Bijuu. Since a Bijuu's body is also their soul, how they respond to something in the illusion, is how their body responds in the real world simultaneously. This means that a sort of leading-control via illusory instigation is possible, but if the Bijuu knows that they're under an illusion, that kind of falls apart. Madara Uchiha is famous for having successfully pulled this off with great skill when fighting the Shodaime, even if he still lost the fight.

Do normal ninja sense chakra? Or is that only a chakra sensor thing? Are chakra signatures of people or techniques recognizable? Do you need line of sight to detect it?

All living beings have a basic degree of chakra sensitivity, based in part upon natural proclivity (some people IRL have 'better than perfect' vision naturally, some people have intensely _bad_ vision, for a comparison), and in part on their own chakra control, and the amount of chakra the entity they're trying to sense has, as well as its nature. Killing Intent is, in effect a person sensing someone else's chakra going "I HATE YOU DIE DIE DIE!" And this is part of why the Kyuubi is so terrifying, as epic amount of chakra+epic rage= people shitting their pants.

To further clarify, in the process of developing chakra control, one naturally becomes more sensitive to the subtleties of it, and more aware of its presence. Your average Jounin should be able to sense the chakra of anyone within 50 feet, and a Kage within a few hundred. People who are natural 'sensors,' pretty much take this general rule set and say 'Screw that, I'm #$ (*ing _Psychic_.' It could be thought of a bloodline limit, except it doesn't seem to follow hereditary lines via any yet-known pattern, partly because they're so damned _rare_ that no-one's been able to make any real effort at setting up a breeding program. To compare the vision analogy I used earlier, some people have 'normal/perfect 20/20 vision,' some people have bad vision and need glasses, some people have marksman vision, and some people are _Hyuugas_. The chakra Sensors are the Hyuugas.

Does technique use leave chakra traces that can be used to ID the techniques deployed?

Yes and no. Some do, some don't; most fire techniques leave traces known as 'ash,' and that's about all you've got. Earth-techniques, on the other hand, will leave the user's chakra slowly diffusing out of whatever was manipulated for some time. Whether it is in a particularly recognizable _pattern_, on the other hand, depends on the technique used. Lightning and Air techniques are pretty much out of the question for ID'ing, due to their duration and ephemeral nature.

((()))

'K, few more tidbits:

Rasengan; only three people were ever able to learn it successfully, and the 'God of Shinobi' _wasn't_ one of them. Further, it's a technique that can be readily scaled up or down in power, everywhere from 'non-lethal' to 'carve through solid rock,' so yeah. S-rank. Also note that unlike Naruto, when _Minato_ uses this technique, it's just _there_, in his hand. Maybe a tenth of a second of wind-up time to get the sphere going, then it's in your face.

Summoning contract of the Uzumaki: Killer Whales.

Research efforts: There have been some organized research efforts in the past, but they kind of fell apart during the war. One of the problems with chakra research, is that in order to do meaningful research, you have to be working with someone who's mastered at least a particular type of Chakra manipulation well enough to have the comprehension necessary for meaningful research. That means Genius Chuunin at the least, and Special Jounin+ is far more likely. Even amongst that highly specialized and smaller pool, a lot of those ninja aren't really interested in doing scientific research into chakra, with its endless repetitive testing for rigor, just in becoming more badass, further narrowing your pool of talent. And during war time, you need those people deployed into the field pretty badly.

On of the main reasons that Konoha was dominant through the time from the second to the third shinobi wars, was because Sarutobi isn't called 'The Professor' for nothing. He did more for developing systemic knowledge about chakra, both normal and elemental, than any two other ninja villages, combined, and one of the reasons he handed the reigns off to Minato, was so that he could focus on research more. Lets him be a BOSS without all the death and killing, allowing him to focus on things that will hopefully go more constructive places. It's common knowledge amongst those who know him on a personal level, that he desperately wants Tsunade to join him in his research, as medical techniques are one of the few he's not mastered, and he very much is in a "I want my latter years to be filled with building/healing, rather than destroying/killing" kind of way.

((()))

→ Snake-face Facts.

((()))

"_Kukuku... Usumaki-kun, you've provided me with _such_ an interesting research subject!"_

_You just stare at snake-face._

"_His chakra system," He continues, completely unaffected by your stare, "It is literally inhuman, and appears to have been sustaining the rest of his flesh, judging by the patterns of accelerated necrosis setting in within the body's tissues. Only trace amounts of this alien chakra remain, and they will soon be gone, so you understand, I assume that I must fully devote myself to studying it while I may?_

"_Whatever, snakes," You say impatiently, "Do you have anything useful for figuring out what corpsey there did to the Yondaime?"_

"_Only one," Orochimaru says as he turns away, his attention moving back to the cadaver before him,"That it appears that the alien chakra left the body through the eyes."_

… Well. That was a not much information, and even less useful. You already _knew_ that ancient-Uchiha had been trying to stop Minato with the Tsukiyomi before he died.; unfortunately, you don't have the time to conduct the examination of the corpse yourself, and while you may be a fully qualified physician, you have essentially no experience as a forensic coroner.

Joy.

Over the next couple of hours, your attention is shifted to helping Yakushi-sensei examine your babies, and it helps lift your mood considerably, they're just so damn _cute_. Like any baby made by you and hubby could be anything else!

...and then your other clone disperses, and your mood drops even lower than it had risen earlier.

Why?

Because apparently Danzo has been raising his own private force of ninja, and six of them just attacked your clone, dispersing it with a lethal blow from a ninjato. And since you're pretty damn sure that none of them were Hyuuga, that means one of them just tried to outright kill you, making Danzo not just a traitor, but a man leading an active insurrection which just attempted to assassinate one of Konoha's ranking leaders.

_Wat do?_

→ Track down Danzo and kill him, _right effing now_.

→ Call up the ANBU. This just got real, and you've not fully recovered from labor.

→ Get ahold of Shikaku, and rally the Jounin/Chuunin.

→ Get Sarutobi and Orochimaru. You need some heavy hitters.

→ Write in.

Again, write-ins encouraged.

((()))

→ Send out clones to alert ANBU, Shikaku, and ninja corps.

→ Send a clone to get Biwako moved to Minato's room, freeing up Sarutobi to act while we stay on protection detail ourselves.

→ Send a clone out to have Danzo declared traitor/missing nin; keep the paperwork in order.

→ Check hubby for hostile chakra invading his system.

((()))

Yakushi-sensei blinks as you abruptly step back from the bed where you've been examining the twins, and conjure up a small army of clones. 'Small army' in this case meaning about a hundred of them, packed literally wall-to-wall; for a minute or few the hospital is standing room only.

'Standing Room Only' in the sense that there's only enough room for all the clones because they're standing, pressed up against each other back to front; after a moment, all of them activate Henge to transform into someone else. The only place you left any room, was by the door, which is quickly opened, allowing a flood of disguised Uzumaki to pour out into the hospital, and from there on to the rest of Konoha.

"By all the Kami!" Yakushi-sensei asked, eyes wide, once the room had emptied enough for him to be reasonably sure which was the 'real' you, "What was _that_ all about?"

"Shimura Danzo just engaged in an act of Treason," You growl, "And he's suborned a minimum of six Jounin-level shinobi already. He may be attempting a coup."

Yakushi-sensei opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by Sarutobi wheeling his wife's hospital bed into the room, the last few clones staying back to let him pass as he does so.

"I know," Sarutobi says, his voice short with tension, "That you will look after her well. You have already saved her life once in the last day. Send one of your clones with me, and I will confront Danzo personally."

You nod to one of your remaining clones, one transformed into ANBU Platypus, a mask that doesn't actually exist, and she departs with Sarutobi, while you and Yakushi-sensei wheel Biwako's bed, and attendant IV, around behind the screen. It's getting a little crowded back here.

((()))

_Clone #1_

You are first out the door, and immediately flip up onto the ceiling, adhering with chakra and keeping the way clear for the other yous speeding out to raise the alarm. Five seconds of flickering hand-signals inform the two ANBU guarding the door of what is happening, thirteen more seconds answer their questions, and then you disperse. Best to leave as little risk of dispersion overload as possible, after all...

((()))

_Clone #2_

You are second out the door, disguised as a generic Chuunin, and your task, like the three following you, is to alert the ANBU patrolling the perimeter, watching for further infiltration/intrusion. With your chakra spread so thin amongst so many clones, you have precious little available, but once you reach the hospital roof, you activate the Shunshin anyways, allowing it to carry you to the village wall in a blitz of speed.

There is no scarcer resource than time for a Ninja, and ensuring that as many personnel as possible are alerted before Danzo has the chance to suborn them is _critical._ Ninety seconds after you reach the wall (and one-hundred and sixty-three seconds after the clone that found Danzo was dispelled), you reach Penguin-taicho's team, and relay the situation via silent hand-signals. After thirty seconds of information exchange, you disperse, returning what chakra you have to the original you.

((()))

_Clone #6_

You never were much good at subtlety, and 'knocking on the Nara's door' almost ends up turning into 'beating the door down.'

A _very_ unamused Shikaku answers the door eleven seconds after you start pounding on it.

"What the hell is going on?" He demands harshly, eyeing you up and down.

"Danzo just attempted to assassinate me," You say quickly, dropping your disguise as a generic Chuunin as you do so, "I think he may be attempting a coup."

"Get in here," Shikaku groans, "And tell me everything."

((()))

_Clone #7_

"Orochimaru," You growl, holding your nose at an _extremely_ unpleasant odor, as you glare at the man, who looks up, taking you seriously as you address him by his real name rather than your usual nickname, "Danzo just tried to assassinate me. I think he's trying for a coup, and you're probably next."

"Idiot," Orochimaru growls, rolling his eyes, "As if Tsunade and Jiraiya would have stood for it, even if he succeeded."

He snaps off a clone to continue his work in the lab, then follows you out into the village at large.

((()))

_Clone #8_

"Look you little shit," You growl, glaring at the Chuunin manning the night-desk at the KMP headquarters, "I don't care if Mikoto-chan decided to visit him for a booty-call in his bloody office! You will tell me where Fugaku-bloody-Uchiha is _right now_ or I'll have you up on insubordination charges, is that _clear_ Chuunin?"

"The Konoha Military Police do not answer-" The Chuunin begins, but you end the argument with an elbow to his forehead.

You'll need to talk to Mikoto-chan about getting her husband less incompetent staffers; the idiot didn't even bother to call for backup before trying to talk down to a Jounin (and one of the Hokage's personal advisors). _Moron._

You storm past the night duty desk, and across the 'office floor' part of KMP HQ, and pound on the door to the Chief of Police's office.

"Enter!" Fugaku barks; working late again, which is hardly surprising to you, given how often Mikoto-chan complains about it.

You kick the door open, and stare in at Fugaku, who looks fairly pissed about being interrupted himself.

"Shimura Danzo has just committed Treason," You inform him sharply, "And may be attempting a coup. Get the KMP mobilized, I'm already activating ANBU, as well as contacting Orochimaru, Sarutobi, and the Jounin Commander."

"Known hostile assets?" Fugaku asks, all business as he rises from his desk, sweeping up his Ninjato as he does so.

"Six Jounin-level ninja, all masked, and Danzo himself. Any other questions?"

"Has Jiraiya-sama returned to the village yet?" He asks as you step aside, allowing him to sweep out of his office.

"No," You say, shaking your head, "And his return time is unknown. Any other questions?"

Fugaku shakes his head.

"Good," you say shortly, "Get yourself a new man at the night desk, the current one is an incompetent idiot."

Then you disperse yourself.

((()))

_Clone #9_

"Hiashi-sama will see you at once, Uzumaki-Jounin," The Hyuuga gate guard says respectfully, his Byakugan remaining active as he bows formally to you.

Considering you showed up at the Hyuuga compound under Henge, which the Byakugan can pierce easily, it's not exactly surprising they'd realize something must be up. You march swiftly past the gate, towards the small outbuilding that the Huuga constructed long ago to meet visitors at; there is another Chuunin-level branch member within the structure, this one female, and apparently more concerned with offering you tea than keeping watch.

Shit. You were never good with formal crap, would it be some horrible insult to turn it down? You decide to go with being direct, like always.

"I'm just a shadow clone," You say politely, "I'd hate to waste your tea on myself."

"Uzumaki-sama," The Chuunin says with a graceful smile, "In half an hour, this tea will go to waste either way, and will not the memory of its taste return to your original body?"

You're pretty sure she's covering your faux paus, so when Hiashi arrives less than two minutes later, you're drinking tea, and trying to look all formal about it.

"Uzumaki-san," Hiashi greets you respectfully (you are, _technically_, the head of a clan, and thus his equal, even if you are the only known survivor of said clan), "What need have you of the Hyuuga clan tonight?"

"I am here on behalf of the Hokage," You reply forcefully, carefully setting aside your ornate teacup, "He requires the presence of a skilled user of the Byakugan, as a matter of the _utmost_ priority, in the secure wing of the hospital _at once_."

"I shall accompany you myself," He says, nodding sharply, "Let us depart at once."

((()))

_Clone #10_

You make your way, disguised as an ANBU, to the Hokage's office as quickly as you can without deploying Shunshin; you don't want to spend any more of your limited chakra than you need to. It takes you roughly three minutes to get to the office's front door within the Hokage's tower, and by that point, a half dozen of the other clones have already dispersed, increasing the chakra reserves of every other clone, as well as your prime self, by a small margin.

Once you arrive at the office door, you do a quick sweep of the outer office, then deactivate the seals securing the door to the office proper.

Then drop into a crouch as someone tries to take you from behind with a Kunai; drawing your sword, you twist around, Kawarimi with a small bookshelf, and find yourself facing Danzo himself.

"You know Bandages," You say as you look the perforated bookshelf up and down, "This is all really stupid. You know you're going to die, right?"

He responds by hurling another brace of Kunai; you're more than a little surprised by just how skilled he is with him, especially with just one hand, but your Wakizashi is up to the task of deflecting them.

...The part where the bandages explode off of his 'crippled' arm, and he doubles the volume of assault, however, catches you off guard, and one of them manages to nick your shoulder, dispelling you.

((()))

_Clone #93_

"He's at the Hokage's office," You tell Sarutobi, "He waited for me to drop the seals, then attacked."

Sarutobi just nods, and disappears in a blur of Shunshin-created speed, on a direct course for Konoha's heart.

((()))

_Clone #11_

"You do realize," You tell Danzo absently as you drop your henge, reverting from the equipment pouch other-you had been carrying into your regular shape, "That for every shadow clone you disperse, you just concentrate my strength more?"

"Henge does not change your actual form," Danzo says, one of his eyes twitching, "What have you done?"

"Funny thing about Shadow Clones," You say with a smirk, "They're made out of nothing but chakra. And chakra is a lot more _malleable_ then the human body; work with them as much as I do, and you start to realize some of the interesting implications this has."

Danzo scowls, and with a flip of his wrist, a ninjato appears in his hand, most likely retrieved from a storage seal.

_Wat Do?_

→ Write in?

→ Write in?

→ Write in?

→ Write in?

((()))

Note: You can ask me for other bits of information Kushina has before casting your vote, if you wish.

((()))

→ Delay Danzo.

→ Get Hiashi to Minato, stat.

→ Coordinate Konoha, _Like a BOSS._

((()))

_Clone #12_

"I can do this all day, Danzo," You say as you roll to your feet from behind the secretary's desk, "And I mean that _literally_."

One barrage of shurike, two barrages of shuriken, _three_; it's the sword from behind that gets you; looks like he replaced himself with one of the shuriken he'd just thrown.

((()))

_Clone Hyuuga_

"What is the nature of the crisis?" Hiashi asks as you storm through the Hospital's roof entrance together, blitzing down towads the secure wing.

"Can't tell you until we get there," You tell him, slightly out of breath, even though clones don't need to breath, "Be prepared to search a patient's chakra system for the presence of foreign and exotic chakra, though."

Hiashi nods; less than thirty seconds later, the ANBU guards check you both over, then wave you into the hospital room. You disperse, and leave managing the affair to your prime self, allowing your other selves to consolidate your chakra.

((()))

_Clone #15_

"You know what the definition of insanity is, Danzo?" You muse quietly, "Repeating the same action endlessly and expecting a different result."

He's out of shuriken and kunai, and you haven't given him the time to recover any of those peppering the walls of the office, so he charges you with just the ninjato, and in six moves, proves himself to be the better swordsman.

((()))

_Clone #6_

"The crux of the problem," Shikaku says irritably, "Is that there's less than a hundred active Jounin in Konoha, but that's still _far_ too many to try to pick out just six from in a meaningful amount of time. Until we can discern some form of meaningfully distinguishing characteristic, mobilizing the Jounin is just as likely to hurt as help. We need that distinguishing characteristic befo-"

"Danzo has been engaged at the Hokage tower," You cut him off, "Outer office, I have a clone presence there."

"Nevermind," Shikaku grumps, "I'll mobilize the whole damn ninja corps, and encircle the building; get ANBU in to watch everyone else, and six defectors just won't be enough to make a difference."

"Will do," You say, then dispel yourself, even as he begins drawing a flare gun.

((()))

_Clone #18_

"You're a lot better than I expected," You admit freely as you fade back, weaving your wakizashi in a tight defensive pattern, barely staying ahead of Danzo's blade, "But each time you fight another one of me, I learn more of your style, you get tireder-" You pause for a moment, thoughtful, then replace yourself with the secretary's chair and begin working through a set of handseals, "Is tireder even a _word?_ I mean, I can't think of a more appropriate word, but it doesn't seem right even then."

Danzo works through a set of handseals of his own; you stop with the handseals, they hadn't been leading to anything anyways, replace the chair again with another seal-less replacement with the secretary's chair, and are stuck through by Danzo.

Huh; apparently he saw that trick coming. Oh well; you disperse.

((()))

_Prime self_.

"What do you see, Hiashi?" You ask, not bothering to keep the edge of worry out of your voice.

"You were right, Kushina-san," Hiashi says with a respectful nod, "There is indeed a hostile chakra present within Yondaime-sama's system, and it is at war with his chakra, and losing. It is difficult to adequately read with so little time of observation, but going by this pattern I expect the foreign chakra to be destroyed within the next four hours."

"Well," You say, sagging slightly and laying a hand on each of your babies to reassure yourself, "That's a relief. Hopefully we'll have dealt with Bandages by then."

"Bandages?" Hiashi says, turning to face you and raising an eyebrow, which with his veins and eyebrows all bulgy is _seriously_ weird.

"Oh, right, that," You say a bit sheepishly, "Well, you see, ol' Danzo decided to commit Treason tonight..."

((()))

_Clone #23_

"_Damn_ Bandages, you really _are_ good," You say, whistling appreciatively as you stare at the side of the office that he just tore to shreds with a Raiton jutsu, "Especially considering that you're, y'know, _ancient_, and have been retired for years. I can see why the Niidame was considering between you and the old monkey both."

Danzo grits his teeth, the first sign of emotion he has displayed since your fight began, and you take it as a personal victory.

"You should not be capable of maintaining this many clones, Uzumaki," He grits out, "That is a full dozen that I have felled. The only exceptional skills you were known to possess were Fuinjutsu and your Chakra chains, backed by Uzumaki vitality and chakra reserves. Even Uzumaki chakra reserves do not account for this depth of chakra availability."

"Funny thing, Bandages," You reply, smiling brightly, "My file doesn't contain everything there is to know about me, and some of my abilities I have literally _never_ made external display of, _ever_."

"That is preposterous," Danzo scowls, a scarcely-there expression that subtly twists his features, "In order for you to have never displayed such abilities, you would have to have _never_ been pressed in combat sufficiently to need them, and I know for a _fact _that your team faced two of the Seven Swordsman less than a year before the war's end."

"_Yup_," You say cheerily, "A jen-you-wine pair of S-rank badasses they were, and the four of us got away without a single casualty, too. 'S what got my Bingo-book entry bumped to S-rank, and Mikoto-chan's too."

Danzo goes absolutely still, what little expression that had entered his face disappearing into a void; he breathes out a single word:

"How."

A brilliant emerald flare erupts over Konoha, and pulses in a pattern for two seconds, then goes still for two, then active for another two.

"Same way I beat you," You say, your grin turning feral, "Flooded 'em with clones until the battle was over, they just hadn't realized it yet.

Then Sarutobi kicks in the front door, and you don't even have to look at him, you can _feel_ that the man is _pissed_.

_Wat do?_

→ Help Sarutobi beat face.

→ Watch Sarutobi beat face.

→ Pop corn. Sell concessions to the Chuunin and Jounin beginning to assemble outside.

→ Write-in.

((()))

[X] Keep an eye out. Danzo's quite clearly demonstrated himself to be a sneaky bastard, so let's make sure he doesn't have any tricks up his sleeve.  
[X]Pop corn. Sell concessions to the Chuunin and Jounin beginning to assemble outside. Do this via clones.  
- - [X]Monitor their reactions to find Danzo sympathizers.  
- - - - [X]Be prepared to help Sarutobi to beat Face.  
[x]Ask Hiashi if he can render assistance to Minato. He may be winning, but it would be better if he had help.

→ Take bets.

AN: You guys seem to be getting into the groove of Kushina's personality; competent goofball/high functioning crazy person.

((()))

_Prime self_.

"I'm confident that Yondaime-sama can defeat this invader, Hiashi-san," You say respectfully (you _are_ about to ask a favor, after all), "But is there any way you could aid him, to hasten the process?"

"With Treason in the act," Hiashi says, raising his hands and extending his ring and index fingers into the classic form for Jyuuken, "I can do no less."

And then he starts giving your husband what looks like some sort of shiatsu poke-massage. _Kiiinda_ weird.

((()))

_Clone # 42_

"Popcorn! Pocky! Squid-onna-stick!" You call out to the ninja assembling around the Hokage tower, "Prices so cheap I'm cuttin' me own throat!"

The initial reaction is confusion, a number of the newer Jounin and Chuunin (those who don't know you personally) staring at you in your apron, carrying a hastily-seized tray of concessions, in confusion. Then one of the walls of the Hokage's outer office blows out, and the others can see Sarutobi and Danzo going at it, staff vs sword.

"Place yer bets her, place yer bets here!" Clone #67 calls, marching up and down in front of the lines of ninja (those who haven't taken cover from falling debris, anyways), carrying a _Clipboard of Authority_, "Current odds favor the Hokage owning Bandages _in the face_! Any takers?"

"YOSH!" Screams the youngest Jounin to have yet arrived, "I will place fifty-thousand Ryo on the Youthful Sandaime-sama!"

The Jounin, Eyebrows, dashes up to Clone #67, and forks over a big fat wad of cash.

"We have our first taker!" Clone #67 hollers, "Now, who's up for betting on Bandages? Fifty Grand in the pot if you win!"

((()))

_Clone #23_

_Well_ then. Bandages is _soundly_ on the defensive; he is a far better swordsman than you, but the staff is strong against the sword, so long as the staff can take the punishment, and it appears that the Old Monkey is using the _diamond_ staff form of Enma the Monkey King. Which is basically cheating on the level of bringing an Uzumaki to a Chakra-endurance fight (something you _wholeheartedly_ approve of), considering that not only is the staff pretty much indestructible, but also functions as though it were the size of a normal staff, in spite of weighing something more like half a ton.

Oh, _and_ it can do that extendy-trick. Which the Old Monkey seems to have totally mastered.

Seriously. It's not hard to see what Biwako saw in the man; you'll have to get together and talk about being married to total badasses some time over Ramen.

At this point, in closed quarters, with Sarutobi keeping up the pressure, preventing Danzo from making any meaningful attempt at Ninjutsu or Genjutsu, the only reason Danzo hasn't folded is because Sarutobi is trying to take him alive. Something that Danzo is taking advantage of to some extent, but he's still being gradually beaten into submission, trying to block a half-ton lump of diamond with a ninjato. A _nice_ ninjato, but it has nothing in the way of exceptional properties.

You've still got a little over a half dozen clones in the room, each occasionally using Kawarima to get out of the two's way; do you want to pitch in on the fight?

_Wat do?_

-Write-in.

((()))

After a dozen or so seconds of Jyuuken-massage, in which nearly a hundred 'strikes' were landed, Hiashi frowned, and that lead to _you_ frowning.

"The foreign chakra is reacting," He says, "But not as I expected. Rather than being disrupted and destroyed, it appears to have merely fragmented and then re-coalesced. Further, in my last half-dozen strikes, it moved towards the points at which I was making contact with Yondaime-sama's chakra system."

"That's weird," You say, scowling as well, "But I suppose it's not surprising it'd try to fight you as well. The reforming bit is _very_ uncharacteristic..."

You trail off as you realize that for _one_ kind of chakra, such behavior would not only be 'not-weird,' but downright _normal_. Bijuu chakra. How the _hell_ would an Uchiha, or _anybody_ for that matter, get their chakra to act like Bijuu-

Your thoughts are interrupted as a swarm of black tentacle-like strands of chakra erupt from Minato's body, and latch onto Hiashi, who had just poked Minato again.

_Wat do?_

→ Attack chakra tentacles with sword.

→ Attack chakra tentacles with chakra scalpels.

→ Attack chakra tentacles with Chakra chains.

→ Write in?

((()))

_Clone #42 _

Concession sales are brisk, especially once the old monkey smashes Danzo out of the office, onto the grounds below, shattering Danzo's sword in the process.

The betting was not so good; there are always a few people willing to play the long odds in any situation, so there were a _few_ bets on Danzo, but once his sword was shattered, Sarutobi started systematically taking him apart, piece by piece. Fortunately for you, you're just taking 1% of the total take, either way, so you won't be out anything yourself.

You don't have much luck picking out any Danzo-sympathizers from amongst the crowd yourself, but Clone #58 manages to spot one, and an ambush pattern of other clones is set up for once the fight's over, or if he tries to intervene.

...Then Danzo tries to activate a seal that's covering about a third of his chest, and he's pumping a _lot_ of chakra into that sucker. Sarutobi moves in to finish Danzo off, but Bandages sacrifices one completely crushed arm to buy himself some time.

_Wat do?_

→ Write in.

You have 5 clones in a position where they can attempt to intervene on this, so I'll accept the 5 most voted-for options; if they conflict, the one with higher votes negates the one with the lower. Note that trying to figure out what the seal does is a (time-consuming) action of its own.

((()))

AN... and I wanted to make this post longer, but abruptly realized that what the other clones were doing was basically irrelevant, and I didn't have enough funnies in my mind to make a humor chunk about them. Maybe next time.

((()))

→ Clones are expendable, use them as such against Bandages.

→ Chakra chains+Sealing vs pseudo-Bijuu Madara.

((()))

_Clone #27_

Whelp. Sealing's an Uzumaki thing, and so that means that it's your turn.

"TAG!" You shout to Sarutobi, four of your clones dropping into direct melee range with Bandages, and binding him with Chakra chains; Sarutobi is sharp enough that when you yourself try to Kawarima with him, he doesn't resist, and you get him out of ground-zero.

Two of your clones pull his arms (one broken) away from his torso, and you yourself step up to his chest, tear his robe off, and examine the seal array he was charging in totality. He continues to charge it as you examine the thing, though the amount of chakra that he can effectively channel has been severely diminished without the use of seals or manual contact to focus through. It's an immensely complex thing; fortunately you're a _genius_, and are able to sort out the basic functions in just a few seconds, largely because it is relevant to your own specialization, chakra storage, though it's far cruder and more inefficient than anything _you've_ designed in the last ten years.

You're on the verge of asking him _why_ he chose now of all times to start _storing_ chakra in the seal, when he answers the question for himself, in part at least, by starting to open up the Celestial Gates.

Well, _shit_.

It takes three gates before he's able to start breaking your chains, four before he actually breaks free; in that time you hurl a overpowered chakra-bullet at him and jump _well_ clear. Bandages blocks the bullet with one of your clones' chakra chains, twisting in place to gain that measure of protection, it still hurts him, but nowhere near the crippling blow you'd intended.

And then he's free, and glaring at you and Sarutobi with little in the way of sanity left on his face.

"Anybody want to bet on Danzo _now!?_" Clone #67 calls, "C'mon people, give the poor guy a chance!"

"Another fifty thousand Ryo on Sandaime-sama!" Gai bellows, digging into his wallet for more money than you'd have thought a newly-minted Jounin would have available.

((()))

_Prime self_

_You ain't afraid of no ghost_.

Chakra explodes from your body, sweeping forward as it coalesces into brilliantly-glowing chakra chains, which slash through the bands of _black_ chakra clinging to Hiashi, and wrap the main mass in a confining embrace.

Trying to seize control of one of your allies bodies while right in front of you? _Bitch please!_

"Get out of here Hiashi!" You snarl, already flipping through the seals for a Five-Element seal as you drag the main mass of chakra back towards Minato's body, and prepare to seal it there, at least long enough to set up a more permanent array.

Once your hand, glowing with thick, _dense_ Uzumaki Chakra approaches the thing's mass though, it writhes, and somehow _screams_, your ears protesting the sound as something that _should not be_.

((()))

_Clone #27_

Sarutobi signals you via ANBU code to take command of the surrounding ninja; technically, you are at the top of the command chain anyways, so you do so. Mostly, this consists of signaling Shikaku to order a general fall-back, Danzo's just upped his speed and striking power a couple dozen notches, and collateral damage could easily kill Chuunin, or even some of the Special Jounin, before they'd be able to adequately defend themselves.

Concession sales pick up; it's not every day, or even every _war_, that people get to see two Kage-level combatants going at each other full-tilt, and it is one _hell_ of a show.

Danzo's unsealed two more ninjato, and is assaulting Sarutobi in an all-out kenjutsu blitz; Sarutobi is retreating in an inward spiral, taking ludicrous advantage of Enma's disparity between mass, volume, and durability to mount a defense so swift you can barely even see it. In fact, you're pretty sure that Sarutobi isn't even _trying_ to retake the offense, being wholly content with giving ground and fighting defensively.

On a whim, you try to Kawarima with one of Bandages' swords, but he's pumping out so much chakra (you're pretty sure he's opened six gates total now), that he doesn't even have to consciously deflect the technique, his ambient chakra accomplishes that without conscious thought on his part. If all your chakra were consolidated, maybe something would come of it, but you've got too many clones out, and have spent a fair bit of chakra amongst the lot of them anyways.

Then Danzo gets a blow in, a low slash that severs Sarutobi's legs just above the knee. And Sarutobi bursts into smoke, a new Sarutobi sliding in to replace the destroyed shadow clone before the smoke even dissipates, the rhythm of combat unbroken.

"Your tricks haven't changed, Sarutobi," Bandages says flatly.

"Why change the plan, when it always wins?" The Old Monkey returns with a smirk.

Betting picks up again, and you have to start 'borrowing' supplies from nearby stores to maintain your stock of concessions; over four hundred ninja empties even _your_ sealed storage caches from in the tower.

((()))

_Prime self_

_Shit happens_. You feel like someone just tried to fire up a diesel-powered train using jet fuel, then send it down a set of tracks that had been tied into two rails had been tied into different Celtic Knots, and the train had been sent down the rails.

And somehow it _worked_.

You have disjointed memories of your sealing hand closing around the chakra mass, Hiashi moonwalking away from the mass, the mass being forced back towards Minato's chakra coils, Yakushi-sensei hurling himself over your behbies, _Rocky Road Ice Cream!_, Yakushi-sensei getting lashed across the back by the chakra mass, Hiashi chewing on it like a dog while burst of Jyuuken-chakra shot out from his teeth, and then...

"It's gone," Hiashi reports from his position wrapped around the ceiling fan, speaking with his usual reserve between bouts of vomiting, "Retreating into the earth below."

The twins are wailing, muffled from beneath Yakushi-sensei, who's not moving and has smoke rising from his back, Minato's still unconscious, Hiashi is visibly disoriented (though his Byakugan is still operating), and your hair has been tied into a dozen braided pig-tails with your own chakra chains.

_Wat do?_

→ Write in?

→ Write in?

→ Write in?

((()))

AN: Sometimes, I only list write-ins, because I think if I make suggestions, it'll make easy solutions to problems too obvious, because the author suggesting them implies some chance of success. Or else I'd be suggesting terrible ideas that would result in disaster, and the players would get pissed at me for that.

I guess Cookie is off to bed; can't blame him, considering the hour.

((()))

→ Check on Hubby.

((()))

"Tell me if it comes back," You order Hiashi sharply, then reach over and slap Minato sharply across the chops.

"Yes Ma'am!" Minato shouts, hurling himself to his feet and instinctively saluting you.

You have him quite well-trained.

"Bandages is committing Treason down at the Hokage tower," You say with your mouth, while the rest of you is saying 'I was worried and I missed you' via expedient of latching onto him and applying a hug that would crush a lesser man's rib cage, "I'll protect babies, you go stop Danzo."

Minato has instinctively taken hold of you with his arms, while he sweeps his keen eyes over the hospital room, seeing Yakushi-sensei's injured form with a clone of yours attending to his injuries, the babies being cradled by another pair of clones, Biwako still sedated in her bed (which has somehow ended up beside the room's exit, and Hiashi twitching from his position wrapped around the ceiling fan.

"Fill me in when I get back," He says, gently rubbing your back for a moment, before disappearing.

"I hate it when he does that," You mutter as you catch yourself from your fall, and turn your attention to getting Hiashi down without inflicting any further injury on him.

((()))

_Clone #28_

Just about minute three of Bandages celestial gate bonanza, right after the fourth Sarutobi clone is dispersed, Minato arrives.

'Arrives' is really much too gentle a word.

'Appeared like the angry fist of the Shinigami, stuffing his fist into Bandages' spine and Bandages himself through six walls' is a much more accurate, and satisfying, description. Also,_ 'Into Bandages' spine' _meant_ into;_ Danso won't be moving anything below his neck for a _long_ time, if ever.

Shocked near-silence pervades the area around the Hokage tower for a long, long moment, the only sound that of Sarutobi's harsh breathing.

"And Yondaime-sama wins!" Clone #63 shouts triumphantly, "Who placed that bet?"

"YOSH!" Maito Gai shouts, at the same time as Kakashi-chan raises his hand.

((()))

_Prime self_

When Minato shows back up, you're breast-feeding the twins again, with the dividing screen between you and Yakushi-sensei, who is looking Biwako over. Because of your dispersed clones, you already know how things turned out, and between the lot of your clones, you manage to identify 3 of Danzo's 6 stooges, and with the Yellow Flash making the takedowns, capturing them was pretty easy, all said and done.

Considering that there were no actual casualties (just a couple dozen popped clones), things went damn well tonight.

And when Minato seats himself beside you on one of the hospital beds, then quietly lifts you into his lap, and wraps his arms around you and the babies, you decide that right now, everything is _just perfect_.

"Love you, blondie," You whisper affectionately.

"Love you, Tomato," Minato returns as you relax into his embrace.

((()))

End prologue arc.

Congratumulations! You guys pulled off some pretty damn fine results!

The worst possible result, was 'Madara' killing everyone, something that was eminently possible, especially with the decision to proactively attack him, rather than give in to his demands.

The next possible set of 'worst results,' were Biwako dying, intelligence on what had happened getting out, and one or more other villages deciding to attempt a suicide blitz while the Yondaime was out of condition. It would have ended poorly for anybody who tried, Sarutobi, Orochimaru, Danzo, and yourself, were still all S-rank badasses present in the village, but there still would have been bloodshed. There's a _lot_ of resentment amongst some ninja in other villages over how the war ended, with Konoha in an absolutely _overwhelming_ position of strength.

For those who were curious, the reason Danzo decided to act, was twofold. First off, his pride was tweaked when he realized he couldn't actually get into the Hokage's office, that yes, Minato (and you and Jiraiya) are _that_ much better at seals than him, to completely shut him out. Second off, he took you using the Hokage's office as a nursery (that's how he saw it, anyways), as a _massive_ sign that Konoha had become immensely weak in attitude, it wasn't 'hard' enough. Third, the way you dealt him was a _massive_ hit to his ego. Not because you talked down to him, but because you showed that you _were_ ready to be as forceful and fierce as necessary, even while you were coping with being a brand-new mother, which threw his own perception of 'weakness' back in his face, putting his judgment into question in a way he viewed as humiliating. So he called together the handful of high-skill ninja he knew were absolutely loyal to him (Loyal since he was a Hokage candidate, they favored his philosophy, and thought he should have been chosen), to lay plans. Most likely, this wouldn't have lead to an insurrection, but rather the eventual formation of ROOT, but one of them jumped the gun when your clone showed up, and his hand was forced.

Once the fight with Danzo started, the only questions were 1: How many other ninja would die, and 2: would he find your babies or Minato and try to kill them. Letting Sarutobi handle it pretty much took care of both of those for the short run, so good job there.

As to sealing 'Madara' (The GM is not confirming or denying the confirmation or denial of the entities actual identity), that could have gone _horrifically_ wrong. If you'd rolled total failure, the universe would have decided you'd tried to divide by zero, and pretty much un-made most of Konoha. That would have required rolling 100, 10 10's, so odds were literally one in ten million. In order of descending level of screwed-up-sealing, you would have had the following results: 1, Hiashi getting 'possessed,' which would have pretty much just killed him, as he wouldn't have surrendered control of his body to 'Madara,' 2, One of the twins becoming the possession target, or 3, Yakushi getting possessed. Without the win dice, it would have been result number 2. Without more than 1 win die, it would have become result number 3.

Once it was decided to check on Minato (slapping was checking to see if he was no longer in a coma), that was pretty much the Win card. I might share with you all Minato's character sheet at some point, he's pretty badass.

Anyways, that wraps up the first plot arc, now it is time for the actual _voting_ on what the finalized Kyuubi-effects on the twins will be!

...cookie, can I get a list of all the suggested abilities, so that I can list which ones are acceptable voting choices? Oh yeah, and have another win dice. I'm not even counting the one you were offering for medical checks as used, those were totally routine. Speaking of which...

((()))

Joke Omake:

"Ah, Yondaime-sama, Kushina-san," Hiashi said, staring down at the passionately kissing Yondaime and his.. wife?

Hiashi wasn't really certain, but they were certainly _acting_ like they were married, and it _would _explain who got Kushina-san pregnant. He was pretty sure that even Uzumaki weren't capable of self-impregnation.

"Some measure of assistance would be appreciated," Hiashi continued, as he writhed in place again, trying to figure out how to extricate himself from the ceiling fan, before someone _turned it on_.

((()))

AN: I'm switching to third person for this bit, because it's ultimately a summation, and I just can't be bothered to come up with reasons for all the information to come up in a first-person perspective. I'd rather move things along.

((()))

On the whole, it was a very eventful week for Konoha, but to nearly everyone in the village, it was considered a net gain. Shimura Danzo, one of Konoha's oldest and strongest Shinobi had turned traitor and died, but Kushina, the last known member of the Uzumaki, had begun the work of rebuilding her clan, and her red-headed twins were absolutely adorable, a point she made certain that _everyone_ in the village was aware of.

_With great enthusiasm_.

Orochimaru personally conducted Danzo's interrogation, with Tsunade on hand to keep the man from dying prematurely; between the two of them they kept the old Shinobi alive long enough to spill _all_ of his secrets, a process that took roughly a month, after which he was quietly executed, and buried in a ditch. During the month of interrogation, Jiraiya was able to unravel Danzo's last-ditch seal, which turned out to be a sophisticated chakra storage/healing seal, designed to work in accompaniment with the Celestial Gates, storing excess chakra that would otherwise be vented into the surrounding environment through the skin, as well as chakra pre-loaded into its matrix, and use it to heal the person bearing it from the damage the use of the gates inflicted on the body. Its primary weakness was an inefficiency in the storage matrix, specifically that it gradually bled out stored chakra when not in use, taking roughly three and a half hours to drain away to nothing.

Six Jounin loyal to Danzo were also rounded up, including one Uchiha, an Akimichi, and a member of the Kurama clan. They knew little of use, and were also executed after _extensive_ interrogation.

Biwako, under Tsunade's treatment, made a full recovery; Tsunade, after seeing the work done on Biwako's wounds by Kushina, especially on the neural tissue of her spine, ambushed the Uzumaki, demanding to know where she'd learned such advanced techniques, as Tsunade had _never_ taught them to anyone else.

A week later she'd become Tsunami's godmother (Mikoto was Naruto's), and was unknowingly ensnared deeply within Minato's plans to keep her too busy to realize that she still wanted to leave Konoha.

The Yondaime Hokage himself spent the next month hunting down information on the entity that had attacked; he was ultimately unable to discover what it was, and whether or not it truly was Madara Uchiha, but according to the account of Hiashi, in the process of fleeing beneath the earth, it had abandoned the physical energy aspect of its chakra, leaving it with only the mental/spiritual aspect, weakening it substantially.

Hyuuga Hiashi made a full physical recovery from the ceiling-fan incident, though his brother Hizashi has made it clear that his _pride_ will never be the same.

((()))

Vote for one:

→ Jump right back into the flow of things, deal with life in the immediately hereafter.

→ Jump months down the road to the Twins first words.

→ Jump a year and change down the road to when the Twins start walking.

Whichever is chosen, _some_ degree of detail and decisions will be involved in the time covered, this is basically a question of what we want to cover detail on. The parts you skip over, you're giving more GM control to, and less player control to.

As to the bloodline limit thing, because of the inability of the players to follow simple, direct, _repeated_ directions, the players at large do not get to know what was selected. I will be PMing the six people who _did_ follow directions partial information, which I will be asking them to keep to themselves. I'm including Vindictus amongst this number, because he was the only one who gave a clear, concise, _complete_ vote _before_ I laid out the more detailed instructions.

Next time something more complex than 'vote for options or write-ins' comes up, _pay attention_, people.

((()))

AN: I spent a number of hours, being frustrated over the sheer number of things that needed to be done IC, and not knowing what order to do them in. Then I realized that I'm THE BOSS here, so I can just use THE BOSS's super-power, and _Delegate!_

((()))

It is a _good_ _day_ to be Kushina Uzumaki. It's just after dawn, your clones are making breakfast, and you and your husband are on the porch of your private residence, a baby in each of your laps. His righ arm is around your waist, your left arm is around his, your head is on his shoulder, his head is resting against yours.

Yup. _Good day_.

It's been two days since Danzo was taken down, Tsunade's returned and assured Sarutobi that Biwako will make a full recovery, and on the whole, at this point your opinion on 'The Pansy Attack Incident' as you've dubbed the events around your first delivery, is more or less that it just gave you and Minato the chance to show off what badasses you are.

Unfortunately you've also lost an argument with him in that time; you're going to have to hold off on letting your secret marriage become public, until the Twins are at least Chuunin. They'll draw enough attention for being Uzumaki already, if Iwa found out that they were the children of the Yellow Flash, they'd need a full squad of ANBU each as constant guards, instead of the single guard for the both of them right now.

That 'guard' generally being Kakashi, who functionally is a massively overpaid babysitter, excepting the fact that the Twins are pretty much _never_ out of your sight.

You _may_ be having some issues with clinginess after Naruto was abducted literally less than sixty seconds after he was born. _Possibly_.

But that's alright, you've already stuck tracking/Hiraishin seals on the twins, and there's no security like Yellow Flash Security. In the meantime though, it's time for breakfast now, after which you will be:

→ Visiting Mikoto-chan. It's time to introduce the twins to Itachi-kun and Sasuke-chan!

→ Visiting Yoshino-chan with a gift, you owe her for her help the other day.

→ Going grocery shopping.

→ Visiting the Hyuugas, you owe Hiashi some thanks for his efforts to save Minato.

→ Bugging Tsunade. She _will_ be godmother, whether she wants to or not.

→ Visiting Biwako. She's a friend, and probably bored out of her mind in the hospital.

→ Going around town and showing random villagers just how cute your behbes are.

→ Training. (Nin/Gen/Tai/Ken-jutsu?)

→ Write in.

Also, roll a d10 (use a website roller if you don't have a physical one), and stick the number next to your vote. This is for random events, not a skill test, so no 'I use my win die.'

((()))

According to the vote at the time I started writing this, visiting Mikoto and bugging Tsunade were tied. Since Mikoto is supposed to be your best friend, I threw the tie-breaker that way.

→ Visit Mikoto.

((()))

Half an hour after dawn, the Uchiha district is a tranquil, austere place, full of young Shinobi and Kunoichi saying quiet farewalls to their families as they head off to work and train, elegantly landscaped chakra trees, and tranquil serenity.

It's also full of insufferable Uchiha Jackasses, and you are struck, as you are _every single time_ you come to this place, by its desperate need of Tender Loving Uzumake Care.

"HEY MIKOTO-CHAN!" You bellow as you storm down the street like you own the place (shared property laws, Minato-kun, you _do_ own the place!), "YOU GOTTA MEET MY NEW BEHBES, THEY ARE THE CUTEST BEHBES EVER!"

For a shocked moment, the assorted Uchiha within sight stare in silent disbelief, wondering how you managed to slip past their morning anti-Uzumaki patrols (again!) with _babies_ in your arms. Naruto and Tsunami, champs that they are, are completely undisturbed by your bellowing, and simply gaze around curiously, their adorable eyes wide.

You smile (_GRIN_) back at them all, give them a cheerful wave, then stomp up onto Mikoto-chan's porch.

(GM Note: Overall rolls were _high_, Fugaku's still having breakfast, and hasn't left for work yet!)

"Good morning, Kushina-chan!" Mikoto calls from inside, "Come on in, we're just having breakfast."

"Don't mind if I do!" You holler, sliding the house's traditional sliding shoji panels open with a pair of chakra chains (your hands are full of babies), kick your shoes off, and saunter on into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, you find Mikoto's family, Fugaku and Itachi are sitting at opposite sides of the table, while Mikoto sits between them, feeding Sasuke with a gentle smile on her face.

"Morning Mikoto-chan, Itachi-kun, Sasuke-chan, Policeman, how's things?" You call as you plop yourself down on the one side of the table that remains unoccupied.

"Lovely, Kushina-chan," Mikoto says, turning her smile on you for a moment, "Fugaku was just telling me about the spy they caught this morning."

"That's five since the TPAI, isn't it?" You say, your disposition improving even more, "Where was he from this time? Iwa? Mizu? Kumo?"

"Suna, actually," Policeman grumps, "And we can't _prove_ it, even though we _know_ he is. Which makes for _no end_ to legal bullshit."

"Blech," You say, sticking your tongue out in disgust, "'S why I let Snakeface and the Old Drunk handle the papwerwork. _Booooring_. But let's talk about something interesting!"

You heft the behbes, first Naruto,

"This is Naruto!"

You give into temptation and rub your face into his dyed hair (he giggles), before lowering him and raising Tsunami,

"And this is Tsunami!"

Tsunami burps up a little baby-yuck, then scowls; you reflexively catch the loose spittle and wipe her face with a napkin snatched off the table via chakra-chain,

"Aren't they the _Most Adorable Behbes Ever?"_

"Mmm," Mikoto-chan says, smiling at _your babies_, "I suppose they might be the cutest _redhead_ babies I've ever seen, but I'm rather partial to Sasuke myself."

"They do bear somewhat less of a resemblance to wrinkled fruit than most newborns," Fugaku allows gruffly.

All movement in the kitchen stops, and your head rotates slowly in place to _stare_ at him.

_Wat Say?_

→ "Policeman! Did you just say something _nice?_ Mikoto-chan must be so proud of you!"

→ "DID YOU JUST IMPLY THAT MY BABIES ARE SOMETHING LESS THAN THE CUTEST LITTLE MUNCHKINS THAT HAVE GRACED ALL OF THE ELEMENTAL NATIONS, YOU ELITIST JERK?"

→ Write-in.

((()))

→ Kind Kushina.

((()))

"Policeman! Did you just say something _nice? _Mikoto-chan must be so proud of you!"

Fugaku twitches; Mikoto gracefully covers her mouth with one hand to hide her impish smile.

"You've got him so well-trained Mikoto-chan!" You exclaim, turning to face your best friend, "I wish you could come help me train my husband some time!"

You see Fugaku scowling out of the corner of your eyes at that; he still resents that his wife is in on this secret, but he isn't. For a moment you hope he'll ask who the father is again, but unfortunately he musters up enough self-control not to ask. To your surprise, it's Itachi-kun who speaks next.

"Kushina-baa," Itachi says softly, "May I hold him?"

_That_ caught you by surprise; Itachi is usually nearly-silent during your visits with Mikoto, and according to her, rarely speaks at all, though he's expressive enough with his body-language. Right now, staring up at you with wide, soulful eyes, arms ever so slightly outstretched towards Naruto, you can readily tell that he's trying to manipulate you with his cuteness.

_Awww_ he's trying to use emotional blackmail on you! He's so cute!

"Sure, sprat," You say, carefully handing Naruto over, "I know you've had practice with Sasuke, so I'll trust you with Naruto, hm?"

He accepts Naruto, and stared into your son's wide blue eyes curiously. He has been _such_ a sucker for babies ever since he found out Mikoto was pregnant again.

Fugaku departs for work shortly thereafter, grumbling about 'disrespectful redheads,' and you and Mikoto spend most of an hour catching up with each other, and sharing girl talk. By the end of your visit, Itachi, Mikoto, and yourself have all held each of the three babies present at least once, and you're feeling the maternal glow. You invite Mikoto to come visit you the next day after breakfast, and she agrees (of course!), but you both have things yet to do this day, so once morning is in full swing, you leave.

Next you:

→ Visiting Yoshino-chan with a gift, you owe her for her help the other day.  
→ Going grocery shopping.  
→ Visiting the Hyuugas, you owe Hiashi some thanks for his efforts to save Minato.  
→ Bugging Tsunade. She _will_ be godmother, whether she wants to or not.  
→ Visiting Biwako. She's a friend, and probably bored out of her mind in the hospital.  
→ Going around town and showing random villagers just how cute your behbes are.  
→ Training. (Nin/Gen/Tai/Ken-jutsu?)  
→ Write in.

((()))

→ Bug Tsunade. She will be godmother, whether she likes it or not!

((()))

Humming happily to yourself, you trot off towards the Senju estates, absently rubbing your cheek against Tsunami's scruffy little bit of hair as you do so. The Senju estates are, at this point, almost entirely rented to pretty much anybody in Konoha who can afford the price; Tsunade is the only living Senju, and the only reason she even keeps one of the houses open, is because nobody in Konoha will rent the small manor-house that is traditionally the home of the Senju clan head. The rent for the roughly four dozen other buildings is what pays for her gambling habit. And her booze habit.

You frown. While you're pretty sure that nothing less than a Sannin is acceptable as godmother for your children, and there aren't any female Kage just now, you're going to have to break Tsunade-baa of some of her bad habit before the twins are old enough to pick them up. Trying to get drunk as an Uzumaki is an _extremely_ expensive proposition, and gambling is just right out.

Ninja don't gamble; they _cheat_. Playing a game involving 'chance' where you even have a chance to lose against anyone other than another than another ninja is just _unprofessional._

You reach Tsunade's residence, walk up the steps and knock on the door; when nobody answers for a few seconds, you open it up and let yourself in. It's a big place, and feels altogether too empty, so you pop out a few clones to make it feel less lonely. There's someone snoring on the first floor, and a brief exploration reveals that Tsunade is passed out in the kitchen, sake spilled all over herself.

You snort in distaste; she's _ridiculously_ vulnerable right now, and while you don't doubt that deeply-ingrained defensive instincts would protect her against most simple attacks, an S-rank foe could take her down with a single shot.

It's embarrassing, honestly.

You:

[x] Use medical ninjutsu to get rid of her hangover before waking her up.

[x] Wake her up, no frills.

[x] Wake her up _loudly_ and _enthusiastically!_

[x] Wake her up with a facefull of water.

[x] Write-in.

((()))

→ Kushina is a _kind prankster._

((()))

Fortunately, as a seasoned prankster, you're always prepared for situations like this; you quickly unseal a camera and a nice permanent marker (Red; it'll contrast nicely with that blue chakra/regeneration seal on her forehead.), and have a seat while your clones get to work.

Five minutes later, Tsunade's hangover has been cured, there's bright red whiskers and fangs drawn on to her face, you've got a nice roll of embarrassing shots on film, and breakfast is well underway. It's the sizzle of bacon that eventually wakes her, though she moans groggily and tries to cover her head with her arms to keep the sound out.

You chortle mischeviously to yourself, then cast a genjutsu designed to intensify smells, and the _smell_ of bacon motivates her to actually sit up, and open her eyes.

"Babies!" You declare, leaning forward over the table to grin brilliantly at her, one twin held up in either hand, just out of her arms reach (in case half-awake instincts react poorly), "Just the thing a godmother needs to see first thing in the morning!"

Tsunade stares at you blankly for long seconds before speaking.

"Kushina?" She says, clearly confused, "What the hell are you talking about?"

_What say?_

→ "You agreed to be Naruto and Tsunami's godmother while you were out drinking last night!"

→ "We have benevolently decided to grant you the distinction of being our glorious offspring's Godmother."

→ "You _know_ you wanna be godmother!"

→ Write-in?

((()))

→ "We have benevolently decided to grant you the distinction of being our glorious offspring's Godmother."

((()))

"We have benevolently decided to grant you the distinction of being our glorious offspring's Godmother," You inform Tsunade graciously.

She just stares at you for a while, before beginning to pat her lips contemplatively with the fingers of her right hand.

"I'm pretty sure I went out drinking last night," She says thoughtfully, "And I'm not feeling a hangover, which most likely means-"

"That I cured your hangover for you before I woke you up, like the gracious Matriarch I am?" You say with an indulgent smile.

"That reminds me," Tsunade says, her gaze sharpening, "_You_ were the one who worked on Biwako-sensei in the field. That's some of the best damn work I've ever seen done by somebody who wasn't me, how the hell did you keep the severed nerve endings in her spine viable?"

"Chakra cycling," You reply promptly, "I put a constant flow of chakra through both points of severance, and kept it going until we got Biwako to the hospital."

"There wasn't any tissue damage though," Tsunade says, leaning forward in a subconscious (or conscious, she _is_ a Kunoichi), "That takes Jounin-level chakra control."

"I _am_ a Jounin-level medic-nin," You snap back, somewhat irritably, "You _have_ been out of the village for _years_, Tsunade-baa."

"That level of control shouldn't be possible for a Jinchuuriki," Tsunade says, and you start violently, instinctively pulling Naruto and Tsunami in close as she blithely reveals one of your most tightly-held secrets, looking you up and down with _intense_ curiosity, "Especially the _Kyuubi_ Jinchuuriki. How the hell did you do that?"

"I am _very_ dedicated to protecting my friends," You reply sharply, "A few months without sleep to refine my chakra control is _nothing_ to keeping them alive. _How did-_"

"I know that you're the Jinchuuriki," Tsunade says, cutting you off with a derisive snort as she leans back in her chair, "Mito was my _grandmother_, Kushina, I know you weren't conscious for the transferrence ritual, but I was there as the attending physician. That still doesn't tell me how the hell you managed to get your control sharp enough to actually be a fully-trained medic-nin. Time alone doesn't cut it for someone with _that_ much chakra, _especially_ since you're an Uzumaki too."

Actually, in your case, it did. Just a _damn lot_ of time, as in _literal months_ of nothing all day except for control exercises, but she doesn't seem to be buying that just now...

Wat do?

→ Insist that yes, copious amounts of time and training _is _what did it.

→ BS her about using sealing techniques to up your control.

→ Demand to know how _she_ would know what it's like to be an Uzumaki and a Jinchuuriki both; _she_ certainly hasn't had that experience!

→ Write in?

((()))

AN: A tad short, but that's okay, I hope to update again tonight...

((()))

AN: Vindictus can have a hit of GM credit. So far, the general rule-of-thumb, is get three, turn it in for a win die! I might let you turn it in for other things further down the line, but that's an if.

→ Only the godmother gets to hear about secret Uzumaki training techniques even partially. And she needs to hold her godchild.

→ That method being exactly the intensive training we said it was.

((()))

You pull Naruto back into your lap, then lean forward and wave Tsunami directly in front of Tsunade's face.

"Only godmothers get to hear about super-secret Uzumaki training techniques, even just a little bit! And you need to hold your god-daughter, can't you see that she wants you to hold her?"

You look at a clone who can see Tsunami's face from where she's being held; the clone nods at you.

"See! Just look at that adorable face! You know you want to..."

Tsunade glares at you for a long moment, then looks down at Tsunami, and her glare cracks. Her eyebrows furrow, her mouth twists, her nose crinkles up, and on the whole, she picks up a look that can best be described as 'constipated,' but then she shakes her head and looks back up at you.

"I'll not let you play the cute card on me," She snarls, "You little brat! I was the master of the cute card before you born!"

Tsunami hiccups, drawing Tsunade's attention back onto her, and she flinches as she looks at your behbe's face again. Confused, you look up at the clone again, and she henge's into a mirror, allowing you to see your daughter's face.

Her eyes are wide, the corners downturned.

Her bottom lip is trembling, and her mouth keeps just beginning to open, as though she's about to cry out.

_Tears are beginning to collect in the corners of her eyes!_

"GAH!" Tsunade screams, whipping her arms up to cover her face and turning away, "No! Get her away! I'll not be fooled by your foul enchantment!"

_Wat Do?_

→ She's on the ropes! Press the advantage!

→ Respectfully back down.

→ YOU NEED MORE FIREPOWER! DEPLOY NARUTO AS WELL!

→ Write-in.

((()))

AN: I am having so much fun with this.

((()))

→ YOU NEED MORE FIREPOWER! DEPLOY BABY #2 AND PRESS THE ADVANTAGE!

((()))

"A-are you implying that my babies are...u-_ugly?_" You gasp dramatically, and Tsunade uncrosses her arms enough to stare out at you between them.

"_What?_" She asks, bewildered, and still off-balance from the assault of Tsunami-cuteness.

"Not sure?!" You declare, your expression shifting to a manic grin, "Then you'd better have a look at _Both!"_

Chakra chains, the tool for all occasions, wrap around Naruto's shoulders and waist, and gently but swiftly swing him directly into Tsunade's line of sight.

"AAAAAAUUUUGGGHH!" Tsunade screams falling backwards, and going into what to all intents and purposes appears to be a seizure.

You swiftly pass the twins off to a pair of clones and leap over the table, deploying diagnostic jutsu as you go. Fortunately, she's not actually having a seizure, _un_fortunately, she's broken down into tears, and is absolutely bawling her eyes out.

_That_, you were not expecting. At all.

_Wat Do?_

→ Hugs. All the hugs.

→ Slap her; she needs to snap out of it.

→ "What's wrong, Tsunade-baa?"

→ Write in.

((()))

AN: Short, but not letting the players have input at this point just didn't seem right to me, and I think I'm winding up for another 2-post night, so it's okay.

((()))

→ Hugs.

→ "What's wrong, Tsunade-ba?"

((()))

Medical crisis averted (or nonexistent), you wrap your arms around Tsunade and pull her into your lap, and begin to rub her back soothingly.

_Ouch._

It is a _damn_ good thing you've got so much chakra, as she just wrapped her arms around you, and started clinging to you as tightly as she can. While it lacks the chakra pulse-release of her legendary Taijutsu skill, her basic strength enhancement is still _insanely_ high, and... yup, she cracked one of your ribs before you managed to push out full-strength reinforcement.

"What's wrong, Tsunade-ba?" You gasp out, before you're confronted with a different problem.

Now that you've exhaled, her grip is literally too tight for you to inhale again.

"_It's not fair!_" Tsunade bawls into your shoulder, "_I'm supposed to be the best physician in the world! I'm supposed to save people's lives! But no, no babies for me! No Dan for me! Why do the Kami hate me so much?_"

You try to come up with an answer, but you're somewhat stymied by the lack of ability to _exhale_. You're a ninja, so you'll be fine for oh, half an hour or so before Oxygen deprivation really gets to you, but this _does_ make it all but impossible to respond to her, since her eyes are closed and you can't use sign language.

_Wat do?_

→ Something with air techniques. You should be able to get air in and out of your lungs, right?

→ Something with Clones.

→ Tap morse code into her shoulder?

→ Write-in?

_Wat say?_

→ Write in.

((()))

AN: Regarding what to say, I'm a psych specialist. I read people, I figure out the motivations of their heart, I know how to communicate well with them. I'm not giving the players hints this time, and this is the first _major_ decision where I'm not giving you 'Kushina's thoughts' assistance to help keeping everyone from making retarded decisions. I will tell you that everything from Tsunade wanting to adopt you as a sister or daughter and absolutely loving you, to her wanting you _dead-dead-dead_ is possible depending on how you handle this moment of vulnerability on her part. This is where epic-write-ins earn GM Cred, choose wisely, SBers.

And remember, this is a social interaction. Which means no die-rolls, which means no win dice. This is pure role-play.

((()))

→ Plan Sivere

- We have half an hour. We have two clones in the room.  
– Main body, continue to suffer in the name of friendship.  
- Clone #1, sit nearby with the behbes.  
- Clone #2, hug Tsunade, stroke her hair, the works.  
- Once she's settled a little, Clone #2 engages serious mode and utilizes the Uzumaki secret technique: therapy-no-jutsu!

[X] Try to breathe before the 30 minutes are up, if circumstances allow.

((()))

Using ANBU sign language, you direct one of your clones to take care of Naruto and Tsunami, then snap off another clone with your words for Tsunade in mind. The clone you have working on breakfast starts taking measures to hold breakfast off for as long as possible, so it doesn't go cold before Tsunade's ready to eat.

"Tsunade, I was very lucky to not lose everything the day the twins were born," your clone says gently as she hugs the older woman from behind, "So many things could've gone wrong; Madara could have killed Naruto, Tsunami could have died due to the strain of releasing the Kyuubi, Minato could have lost to whatever was that black chakra... I'm an S-Rank ninja, and I've never felt so helpless in my life."

You/she pauses for a moment to see if she has Tsunade's attention, then continues when she sees she does.

"I came very close to losing everything that ever mattered to me. You have lost much, Tsunade. What could have happened to me four nights ago has already happened to you. I could've lost everything that day, but I didn't, and I'm not going to lose one of the best damn people in the village.

"I remember Uzushio. I remember how it felt when I was told that all of my family was lost. I didn't want to go on living alone, because if I didn't remember them, didn't just grieve for them, then who would? I wanted to lash out at all the people who told me to stop spending all my time crying, that Uzushio wasn't worth it. So I'm not gonna tell you to forget Dan, or not to grieve for him. But I couldn't let that grief dominate me forever, allowing those who destroyed Uzushio to destroy me too, and I don't want you to be destroyed by what you've lost either."

Tsunade's clearly listening now; if anything, her grip on you has intensified, but she's not totally lost in her tears anymore.

"Every day I worry for Minato, for the children, for my friends. We may be freakishly powerful ninja, but we're still human. Bad things, horrible things, will keep happening to people we know and love. It's because there are some freakishly powerful ninja, who also happen to be insane, ambitious bastards. This is not about who has more power, or luck, or who the gods smile upon. I don't know if the gods hate you, Tsunade-ba. If they do, _screw the gods_, their loss. But there are still people here who love you and care about you. And this is the only way we can stop all the bad stuff from happening; remember this whole "Will of Fire" thing?"

Her grip _definitely_ just intensified, and you just felt another one of your ribs crack. You spend most of your conscious effort packing as much ki into your rib-cage as you can (and trying to ignore how much the way she's squashing your breasts _hurts_), and worry that if she squeezes any harder, you're going to have to pull out Kyuubi Chakra, or she might actually crush your rib cage and kill you.

"We can't face the world alone," Your clone continues, "People won't stop dying just because you drift away from them, Tsunade. Don't do this to us, and to yourself. I want my children to grow up in a better world than we did, but if that's going to happen, we have to work together for it."

"Please, Ba-chan. Will you be the godmother of my children? Will you accept us as your family?"

_Cr-crack_. There go two of your ribs, broken. Tsunade is violently trembling in your arms now, and you direct your cooking clone around to look at her eyes, and see if she's gone into shock; she hasn't, but you suspect it's a damn near thing.

"Why-" She starts, her voice hoarse with crud from all her bawling, then clears her throat and tries again, her voice faint now, but clear, "_Why?_" She breathes desperately, "_Why_ do you want me so badly?"

_Wat say?_

→ Write-in.

Your rib-cage is being crushed, _Wat do?_

→ Endure, and hope she doesn't lose control any further.

→ Endure, but be ready to deploy Kyuubi chakra in an instant. With that deployed, even if she turns your heart into a pulp, it'll sustain you long enough to regenerate. She has at least 50/50 odds of sensing that you're doing this though.

→ Kawarima with a clone. It'll be crushed instantly, but you won't have to try to violently force your way free of her grip.

→ Write-in?

((()))

AN: Sivere's write-in was a mixed bag, it was excellent at establishing a connection and similarity between the two of you, and great at getting her to open up even further, especially since Dan was _big time_ into the Will Of Fire, but it didn't answer a critical question or two that her heart hungers for. I'll be blunt at this point, if you want _best possible_ result, you lot are going to have to give at least some solid philosophy/theology that answers her questions, not just pat or stock answers. You can get 'not totally screwed up' results without it, but most certainly _not_ the best.

((()))

→ Plan Quizer.

AN: As to hemophobia, yes Tsunade has it, but it's more realistic, she gets antsy, and loses her edge, rather having a total BSOD when she sees it.

((()))

_Clone talking to Tsunade._

"I want you because you're family, the only blood family we've got left. I'd be thinking about you as a potential Godmother for Tsunami even if you weren't the most powerful known Kunoichi in the Elemental Nations. I want family for the role, and so does the father, he's an orphan."

Tsunade nods faintly, wide eyes, far too young and vulnerable for a Kunoichi of her age and experience, peer at you around the back of your prime self's neck.

"Mikoto, my best friend, is going to be Naruto's godmother, she's already got experience with boys, but my husband and I want _you_ for Tsunami's godmother, I know you'll be amazing if you actually care to take up the role. I'll be honest with you though, the fact that you _are_ the only Kunoichi I know of more powerful than myself, that you _are_ the best healer in the whole damn world, I want that person looking after my babies too. Hell, who wouldn't?"

Tsunade manages a teary smile at that, and you give her a small smirk in response.

"And beyond what I want just for Tsunami immediately, we've just been doing some major house-cleaning with killing Danzo-"

Tsunade tenses at the name, and you distinctly hear something snap in your prime self's chest, but she bears up under it like the awesome person you are, and Tsunade is still to caught up in what's happening to notice. You see anger in her eyes now, mixing with the pain.

"-And a lot of things are up for reorganizing in Konoha in general. I want you to help us make Konoha a better place, I know how you wanted to create a medical corps for Konoha, and I want you to help me do that now that things are changing again."

The spark of anger in her eyes is turning into something else, something _more_, but your prime self is tapping a distress-code on your side with her spare hand, so you decide finishing all this up is probably pretty damn important.

"That's what the 'Will of Fire' is _supposed_ to be out," You say finally, then laugh shortly, "And here I am, from Uzushio talking to you about it. Especially with the Old Monkey as your sensei, I'm sure you know more about it than I do."

A bittersweet smile forms on Tsunade's face, and her grip on your prime self eases up, and she opens her mouth to speak-

Only to be cut off as your prime self drops out of Tsunade's arms, gasps for breath, and promptly starts coughing up blood.

"Hey, Tsunade-ba," Your prime self wheezes wetly as she carefully wipes the blood off of her lips (and out of Tsunade's sight), "Awesome demo on the 'strongest kunoichi' thing, care to show off the 'greatest healer' bit now?"

"What happened!?" Tsunade asks, staring down at yourself with a mixture of confusion and dawning horror.

"Eh, nothing big, Ba-chan," Prime you says nonchalantly, "Just one of my broken ribs poking into my right lung a bit. Could you do something about that?"

'Your' tone of voice suggests you've asked her to pass the pepper, rather than initiate potentially life-saving medical treatment, but the effect is ruined somewhat by the bubbling sound from blood in her throat during exhalation.

"Oh Kami," Tsunade says, already firing up the ol' green hands o' glowiness, "I'm so sorry! Why didn't you say something!?"

"Couldn't breathe to talk," Prime you says with a grin, then winces as one of Tsunade's left hand probes the bottom of her ribcage, "Besides, you needed a hug, and there's no need to apologize; you're worth it."

Tears begin to well up in Tsunade's eyes again, but they don't interrupt her work on your prime-self's battered ribs.

((()))

AN: Tsunade crisis resolved! You didn't get the best possible results, but you still got some pretty damned good ones. Frankly, that's partly because I wrote Kushina as a lot more eloquent than the somewhat-wordy write-in's suggested. Yog's and PhoenixFTW's plans both would have actually had slightly better results, Phoenix's largely because it was so succinct; brevity is the soul of wit and all.

The whole ribs-thing was partly because it seemed character appropriate to me, Tsunade is pretty oblivious in canon when she's suffering from emotional overload, though I take that as a guideline at best, and partly because it was the GM's secret bonus-card for the players. Enduring the whole way through let you deliver that line at the end, which just ups things big-time for effective impact on Tsunade. I was actually rolling dice for her strength vs Kushina's, and Kushina lost _every single time_. This last one, with the minor lung damage, actually rolled two ties in a row, before the win went to Tsunade.

Seriously! Two ties in a row on 10d10!

I didn't tell the players because frankly, letting win dice here would have ruined any kind of drama, and any chance of feeling repercussions for what you lot were risking. If the rolls had gone badly enough, which they didn't, Tsunade _could have_ accidentally killed you. But you guys stuck it out, and as such, got a bonus effect on your relationship with Tsunade.

It's 11 AM, and I haven't slept yet, so I'm damned tied. More details on the psychology and philosophy of all this, I think I shall include with AN's later. In the meantime, vote for the next activity of the day:

v

((()))

((()))

After Tsunade slips your ribs back into place, heals them, then patches up your lung (total time required: fifteen minutes), you chat over the breakfast one of your clones cooked, both of you with a baby on one arm, and chopsticks in the other.

It only takes about ten minutes of Tsunami's applied cuteness at point-blank range for Tsunade to seal the deal, and you spend the rest of the meal filling her in on the other medic-nin in Konoha, what exists in the way of organized structure for them (not much), and who is worth her personal attention. You make sure to slip in a good word for Yakushi sensei; he _did_ literally throw himself in harm's way to protect your babies, and is privy to S-rank secrets and all, so his security clearance is damn high. Shizune-chan shows up during this, and you give the young genin half your food, since this is the second time you've eaten today.

The half hour after that is spent watching Tsunade inspect your babies, something that turns out to have surprising, and worrying results.

"Your babies are _not_ normal," She summarizes flatly, "Beyond the development advancement due to them having gestated for a month longer than normal, there's abnormal neural tissue along Naruto's spine, and there's something _strange_ about Tsunami's cellular structures. And that's not even _starting_ to get in on the madness that is their chakra systems. I can't tell in detail without specialized equipment or a Hyuuga, but they're _excessively_ developed for newborns, and may be shaped abnormally as well, but I can't be certain until we've had them in for a more protracted examination."

"Is anything about that dangerous to them?" You ask worriedly.

"The chakra abberancies _could_ cause problems," Tsunade says, "But then, what they have might be totally natural for Uzumaki born of a Jinchuuriki. It certainly isn't causing them any problems _right now_, but I'll want to check them in more detail ASAP."

She pauses for a moment to give you a _look_.

"Tell Minato that you and your husband will want to send word down to the hospital that I'm basically queen bitch of Konoha's medical establishment. If I can find the right people and equipment, I'll have what I need for more involved diagnostic tests tomorrow morning. Assigning me a Hyuuga, preferably one with some medical training, would help too."

She _knows_. Not surprising considering her close inspection of the kids; Naruto's bone structure bears some clear resemblance to Minato's, even if baby-fat conceals the fact from casual observation, and his dyed hair removes the blond similarity.

"I was planning on heading down to the hospital to visit Biwako after this anyways," You say, nodding towards Tsunade, "I'll pave the way for you."

You collect your behbes, say your goodbyes to Tsunade-ba and Shizune-chan, and depart, bound for Ichiraku's to pick up Ramen for your friend and yourself to share for lunch. You also send the pair of clones you'd had cleaning up the kitchen head off to go talk with Minato-kun. He'll want to know about this just as much as you do.

((()))

AN: Cumulative displacement of roll is -17, meaning positive random event, though it may not be immediately noticeable.

((()))

Your stop at Ichiraku's is fairly short, and is only as long as it is because Teuchi's daughter, Ayame, is helping her father out, and a few minutes need to be set aside for her to squee over Naruto and Tsunami, and you to squee over how cute she is when she holds Naruto for a little bit. Teuchi spends the time filling out your order, and you're on your way quickly.

At the hospital, you run into one of your most hated nemesii, _Useless Rules_. According to the receptionist at the desk, visiting hours aren't on, so you're not allowed to visit Biwako, since you're not the attending physician, nor one of the hospital's current staff.

Curses!

_Wat do?_

→ ...We are S-rank ninja. They expect to keep us from visiting Biwako _how?_ Just walk right in and ignore those trying to stop you.

→ ...We are S-rank ninja. They expect to keep us from sneaking in_ how?_ Stealth entrance.

→ ...We are one of the Hokage's Lieutenants. Rank hath its priveleges.

→ How could the receptionist possibly say no _to these adorable babies?_ -stick babies in receptionist's face.-

→ Write-in?

AN: So. The whole Tsunade-had-a-meltdown and philosophy thing.

One of the key things Tsunade was looking for, was a reason to believe she had some kind of worth, when all her vaunted skill both militant and medical couldn't save the ones she loved. Considering she was with Dan when he fought, and couldn't turn the fight enough to save him, and couldn't heal him well enough to keep him from dying, she was _really_ hard-hit in the area of self worth.

IRL, everybody hungers for something that lets them understand and know their worth. What their value is; preferably something that can't be removed, so that there's no way that they can be made worthless; for those who've had the things they _had_ derived a sense of self-worth from ripped out from under them, something that _can't_ be taken away is especially important.

Now, as a Christian, I believe that man is made in the image of God, and that gives a kind of worth and value that cannot be taken away from you, no matter what. It's a little known piece of bible trivia, but God actually directly says to someone (I forget if it was in the Psalms or Proverbs), that he created man to be _gods_. We are little-g gods in nascent form, and nothing anyone else does, or that we screw up, can change that.

As said though, I wasn't going to try to force some sort of conformity to my worldview in this quest; what I _did_ require for you guys to hit Tsunade in a meaningful way, was to show her some kind of quality and worth she could cling to, that couldn't be taken away from her. You gave that, in that she is your family, if distantly, and nothing is capable of changing that. If she were in a more rational frame of mind, she might have worried about disownment, or about you and the twins dying, and then her having _no_ family, but as is, she has re-centered her sense of self-worth on the idea that she has _family_, and there's a value to family that just cannot be taken away.

This reflects an aspect of my worldview, in that we are children of God, but that's not something I'll belabor here.

Phoenix's write-in was a good option, because it was succinct, and in its brevity, lent more focus to the point of family. Yog's write-in was good, because it was well-written enough to paint a legitimate worldview for Tsunade, where she would end up thinking 'there is literally no good reason for me not to form bonds with Kushina and her family, so I will, because I _want_ those bonds.'

Quizer's write-in more or less only succeeded because I, and Kushina to a lesser degree by proxy, was a lot more to-the-point, and better at communicating, than the total outline he put in. Of course, part of that is because I'm basically communicating with 'myself,' since both Kushina and Tsunade are functioning through the lens of my communications/people reading skills, but whatevs. That you were willing to let your ribs be crushed would have pushed you over the threshold without my skills, but it wouldn't have turned out _as_ well.

The best possible result, would have come from something along the lines of directly and intensely addressing Dan and Nawaki's death, directly and intensely saying that _everybody_ has a worth and value that is inherent to them for being a human being, that can never be taken away, and then a 'finishing move,' the one that comes to mind being something along the lines of 'Dan and Nawaki were precious, wonderful people for you. But _you_ are a precious, wonderful person to, and living like you have been denies both what they believed about you, and in doing so you're actually _diminishing_ their value, as well as your own.'

Which in retrospect, actually sounds somewhat like 'pat' lines. A lot of it would have depended on delivering a _well-written_ write-in, and one that came across as something you actually believed in, rather than just a mental philosophical exercise. It's kind of like the difference between a televangelist, and Mother Theresa. They both speak big words, and claim to be Christians, but it's pretty damn clear who _really_ believes what they're talking about, and their words are so much more meaningful for it.

Finally, getting Tsunade provided unexpected benefit, in her detecting the anomalies with the twins. I hadn't thought of how that would play out until it happened, but that could be a big deal down the road.

((()))

→ Rank hath its privileges.

((()))

"Allow me to rephrase that, miss receptionist," You say, stepping forward to glare over the woman's desk, "I'm the Hokage's Lieutenant, and you're a glorified clerk. The only person in this village with the authority to veto me is the Hokage himself. _I'm going to go see Biwako._"

You don't apply any Killing Intent, but you don't need to. The woman is _far_ too thoroughly cowed to try to stop you after that, and you proceed, humming happily, along towards the ward where Biwako is recovering. She hasn't been in the ICU since Tsunade fixed her up the other day (if you're still in the ICU after Tsunade's had a go at you, you're _damn lucky_ you survived until she did), and is more or less just in for observation at this point, until Tsunade checks on her again tomorrow.

On your way in, one of the clones that went to talk to Minato dispels, filling you in on how the meeting went, while the other heads towards the hospital, carrying the hard-copy orders he just issued you. In short, Minato is _damn happy_ that you've managed to get Tsunade to both stay, and be Tsunami's godmother; he gave you orders pretty much making the hospital, and anything else part of Konoha's medical establishment, you and Tsunade's collective personal domain.

This is exactly the sort of thing that you're one of the Hokage's Lieutenant's for; Orochimaru is in charge of research and development, Jiraiya is in charge of Intelligence and some degree of counter-intelligence (with the KMP handling counter-intelligence within the village proper), and you're the free-floating troubleshooter. You handle whatever go-to task Minato needs done that doesn't clearly fall within someone else's field, and when you're not on-assignment, you basically go looking for trouble and put an end to it.

Jiraiya and Snake-face both like to say that if you can't find trouble, you'll _make_ trouble, but personally, you think it's positively _criminal_ when life in a ninja-village is boring, and hey, better the excitement be paint-bombs and whoopie cushions than S-rank ninja trying to steel Bijuu. You've generally kept your prank-targeting to Jounin, special and regular, over the last couple of years, as nobody else is really much of a challenge, and if they can't see it coming they need the practice anyways.

That aside, if Tsunade's still here in a year or so, she'll probably be taking up a position as the Hokage's fourth lieutenant, with medical being her domain, so that you can retain your status as a free-floater.

Your train of thought is _thoroughly_ derailed when you open the door to Biwako's room, and find her and the Old Monkey _seriously_ going at each other. You haven't seen anybody else kiss like that since... your mind draws a blank, though that might be as much the fact that your personal image of those two doesn't include mad, passionate kissing, and some seriously heavy petting on the side. Seriously, don't they know that-

Right, visiting hours _are_ on hiatus just now.

_Wat Do?_

→ "Get a room you two!"

→ "Ew! Old people aren't supposed to do that!"

→ "Not in front of the babies!"

→ Quietly withdraw.

→ Write-in?

((()))

→ Quietly withdraw.

((()))

Smiling happily to yourself, you withdraw from Biwako's room, and leave the old couple to catch up with each other in privacy. As you move up towards the Hospital's roof, you even summon a clone to pat yourself on the back for making the reunion possible; having nearly lost Minato recently, you know exactly how Sarutobi feels, and find yourself wishing you had more smooching time with him. He _is_ the Hokage though, and even with shadow clone cheating, he's damn busy and can only spend so much time away from the office.

At the roof of the hospital, you meet up with your clone carrying the orders for the hospital from Minato, and have it spawn another dozen clones. You take the hardcopy yourself, and deliver it to the current head of the hospital, while the clones take the copied versions to the various department heads and other major figures. After a half hour, pretty much everybody who works at the hospital is aware that Tsunade-ba is going to be The Boss starting as soon as she shows up. Most of them are chill with it, though the current boss feels a bit like he's having his toes stepped on; in all fairness, he _did_ earn his position, but this _is_ Tsunade we're talking about.

That taken care of, you discover that it is time to feed the twins; they rarely cry, but when they start crying and flailing at your boobs with their only half-controlled arms, it's pretty consistently meant that they're hungry. So, you have a seat on the hospital roof, privacy screened by somebody's laundry (Who the _hell_ air-dries their laundry on the roof of a _hospital?_) and set in to feed the twins.

Mommy-hormones and your natural affinity for cuteness turn you into a happy puddle of cooing maternal instinct for a good ten minutes. It would've been fifteen, because the twins are _hungry_, but after the first ten you sense somebody closing in with you, more specifically it's Kakashi-kun, one of the few chakra signatures you're familiar with to immediately recognize without any other sensory input. Someone else is with him, and the two close in to just outside of the psuedo-screen formed by laundry.

"We shouldn't go any closer," Kakashi says, "She usually only gets like that when she's feeding Naruto and Tsunami."

"Hai, Hatake-san!" Maito Gai _barely_ doesn't shout, "It would be most improper to intrude upon a nursing mother and her children!"

"Damn straight fishbowl!" You bark, "Now what are you two here for anyways?"

"Ah," Kakashi says somewhat awkwardly (boy never was very good with socializing), "Kushina-onee, We've got a little problem, and we're hoping you could give us some advice?"

"Well, out with it sparkplug! Whaddaya want?" You demand.

"Well," Kakashi says awkwardly, "We were the only ones to bet on Minato-sensei winning the fight between Danzo and Sandaime-sama, so we got the whole payout, me more than him. I've got 1,113,000 Ryo, and Gai-kun has 427,000 Ryo in winnings from the bets. What should we do with it all?"

Oh. Right, they _did_ sweep in an awful lot, didn't they?

_Wat say?_

→ Write-in.

((()))

AN: This is a point at which lots of questions to the GM about what sort of things they can buy or invest in are appropriate. So yeah, I'll be expecting/ready to deal with a lot of that.

((()))

Notes on the world from in-thread:

In Konoha, all of the clans have a 'family business,' (Inuzuka=vets, Uchiha=police, Akimichi=Restaraunts, Hyuuga=Professional conductors of Tea Ceremony and Etiquette Training), which all ninja-members of put at least some time into. Clanless ninja in Konoha are a total scattershot, some start their own small businesses on the side, there's the mail-ninja business which is almost always willing to recruit any ninja in good standing, and some do nothing but Ninj.

Sand has their famous puppet-masters, and few outright civilians are willing to live in Suna, so they provide a lot of their own basic services.

Kiri and Mizu both compete with each other as merchant-operators and pirates, in rather obvious ways. Other side-jobs for ninja are frowned upon, but not unheard of. Notably, the bloodline purges have not happened at this time in this continuity.

Iwa used to run construction and clearing business, due to their large numbers of stone-shapers, but since their ninja corps were massively depopulated by the war and Minato, they mostly just train more ninja.

Kumo is a lot like Konoha, but less so. It's kind of a running insult that Kumo has always been a wannabe-Konoha, want the bloodlines, want the powerful non-bloodline clans, want the inherent civilian infrastructure, etc. If it weren't for the fact that after the second war they were marginally the runner-up to Konoha for power, and since the _third_ war, they are unquestionably the second most powerful, having fought in a largely defensive manner after the war's initial blitz offensives.

Minor villages tend to have either essentially no side-jobs for ninja, or have _every_ ninja hold a sidejob, as they either focus on their specialty to try to compensate for their inferior size, or try to pad their budget to build their numbers.

It is particularly notable that unlike in canon, the ninja forces of a nation actually _have_ budgets, and again, are not the _sole_ military forces of each nation. Which means that bandits and the like tend to run into soldiers with guns, tanks, and artillery, so that largely isn't a ninja's problem. It also means that a village's financial security is not dependent upon it functioning as a mercenary organization, they are an actual military operation, if an irregular one, and are treated as such.

There _are_ still mercenary ninja missions, but they run to providing security forces, being contracted by local law enforcement to gather intelligence, and anti-piracy missions. Because a lot of pirates are ninjas.

Since I rambled onto ninja being military operatives, I'll add another post in a little while giving more definition to that. This one will also be linked to in the index.

((()))

Notes on militaries and ninja. Beware, the canon/fanon Naruto maps aren't quite accurate to this continuity...

Right, so thinking more on the consequences of militaries being present in this society has also forced me to think about what this would mean for wars.

Basically, the Second and Third Great Ninja Wars, much like the World Wars in real-world history, massively disturbed the balance of power. The SGNW was a big deal, because _accurate_ bolt-action firearms were proliferate, meaning that standing armies were actually dangerous to genin for the first time... pretty much ever. A _lot_ of genin died when they were sent out to 'blood' themselves for the first time fighting 'normal and harmless' soldiers. Chuunin were endangered as well, due to the sheer volume of fire that a platoon can put out, especially when they're well-trained enough to be accurate, and a fair number of them died as well.

Part of the reason that the Land of Fire controls so much territory, is the martial philosophy of the first three Hokages; namely, they didn't treat their ninja like tools, and didn't let their pride get in the way of a combined arms approach to warfare. Whereas IRL WWI, trench warfare became dominant due to the massive advances in lethality of war machines, the SGNW resulted in a strategic discipline more like the Roman Army. Specifically, build yourself a small fortress to sleep in, every night if necessary while you're on the march, and during the night the ninja all try to kill each other.

During the day, artillery and infantry would play merry hell with each other, and at night, the ninja would try to find the other side's infantry and artillery encampments, then call artillery down on the opposition's forces. This is also when Snipers first became more than an extreme rarity, and something that ninja learned to begrudgingly respect, as Chuunin who were insufficiently stealthy could easily be killed by a skilled sniper, though the weapons of the day weren't powerful enough to be a real inconvenience to Jounin.

The implementation of the Tank also made a huge difference to the battlefield. An armored division was a serious threat to ninja in direct combat. Iwa largely laughed, as while only special-Jounin ninjutsu specialists and up could tear open a tank's hull to get at the meaty center, tanks were complex machines, and Chuunin could easily do enough damage to mobility-kill a tank. The vehicles were almost universally outfitted with high-powered flamethrowers however, which made closing with them extremely dangerous for ninja. Standardized explosive tags of the day weren't powerful enough to crack tank armor, and for much of the war a race of metallurgists and mechanical engineers against seal experts was maintained, trying to make armor strong enough, and explosive tags powerful enough, to defeat the other.

Strategy for the deployment of ninja fairly rapidly shifted towards what we'd consider more traditional IRL, slip your ninja behind enemy lines, and start blowing up their munitions factories and the like. This is part of why air power developed very differently; only S-rank ninja can fly in a meaningful way, and it was _much_ cheaper to insert a ninja behind enemy lines than develop and deploy more advanced air power, so things developed in a manner that would seem very weird to most people IRL.

While fixed-wing aircraft do exist, they're largely used to defend zeppelins. Zeppelins present stable large-scale observation and firing platforms, allowing for much longer and more detailed studies of enemy troop formations to be formed. They carry some light guns, but more importantly, a sniper contingent, and basically serve as gun platforms to force Shinobi to keep their heads down. While S-rank ninja who can fly are extremely rare, S-rank ninja who can effectively hit something flying at a couple thousand feet, are something you can expect at least a half-dozen of in every major village in except for Iwa. And since Zeppelins are such massive targets, if they get too close to the front lines, it's pretty damn easy for such a ninja to knock one out of the sky without having to meaningfully expose themselves.

Because of this, air power wasn't developed anywhere near as much during SGNW, and largely survived as a minor accessory to frontline combat, and as security observation at important sites in friendly territory.

In essence, SGNW devolved to 'opening assaults, counterattacks where Land of Fire gained territory because Tobiirama and Sarutobi were awesome, then shadow war for ninja while regular militaries skirmished,' until the heavy-hitters started getting thrown in. Kumo deployed one of its Jinchuuriki against Iwa, Iwa lost some ground before pulling out one of _their_ Jinchuuriki, and it was _ugly_. Huge tracts of land were laid completely to waste. Salamander Hanzo fought the Sannin and shit-tons of people died, but the duel itself was a stalemate.

Then Tobiirama died fighting both of Kiri's Jinchuuriki and the Mizukage, killing both Jinchuuriki in the process. The battle lasted seven hours, and afterwards, the Mizukage fled with the the dead Jinchuuriki to reseal the Bijuu before they broke loose, rather than risk pressing his advance into the Land of Fire.

Suna, Kumo, and Iwa all decided that since the second of the legendary Senju brothers was finally dead, this meant that the opportunity to knock Konoha off the top of the heap had finally come, and came to a temporary cease-fire, and sent their Kage and one of their two Jinchuuriki to attack Konoha directly.

The Sannin and Sarutobi took the field, the Sannin confronted one Jinchuuriki each, and Sarutobi took on all three Kage by himself.

Two days later Suna had lost the seven-tails, Iwa had lost the five-tails, and the exhausted Sannin had pulled a draw with the remaining eight-tails Jinchuuriki. Jiraiya still insists that the only reason he didn't beat his opponent solo too was because he had the toughest.

The Kazekage, Tsuchikage, and Raikage retreated from the battlefield, and Sarutobi, already known as 'The Professor,' gained the title 'God of Shinobi.'

Sarutobi said 'War's over,' nobody really felt like arguing with him at that point.

It would be another twenty years before anybody _dared_ to attack the Land of Fire again.

Partially as a result, Third Great Shinobi War wasn't actually started by Shinobi; the one drawback to the Kage/Jinchuuriki/Sannin brawl that ended the SGSW, was that very few people saw it, or realized just how powerful it revealed the Land of Fire to be. So, as technology continued to advance, and bolt-action rifles became semi-automatics, clunky armored tanks became efficient, _speedy_ engines of destruction, and artillery began to hit ranges of 50+ miles, someone got ambitious.

Specifically the Daimyo of the Land of Earth decided he wanted back the territory that Konoha had gained in the SGSW, and started the TGSW against the advice of the Tsuchikage. Ninja being ninja, the attack didn't come as a surprise to _anyone_, and when Earth invaded Fire, Lightning invaded Earth, Kiri invaded Suna, and Suna, now allied with Fire, tried to attack Kiri and Iwa both at the same time. Suna gained ground against Iwa, and was pushed back from the coast by Kiri, who promptly bogged down when they hit the desert.

Fire, having been ruled by a swiftly-assassinated incompetent Daimyo at the start of the war (Kiri and Iwa think Sarutobi ordered it, prevailing opinion elsewhere is that Suna organized it without Konoha's knowledge in order to save the war) lost territory initially, but once the new Daimyo, all of twelve years old, and having the prodigy Sarutobi _Asuma_ as one of his bodyguards whispering in his ear, swiftly shut down Iwa's attack, then was forced to send the two Sannin still in service (Tsunade had crawled into the bottle by this point) to guard the border with Ame, as Hanzo had finally just killed the Daimyo of the small nation and seized power outright.

After that it was pretty much war of attrition on all fronts, the Tsuchikage, while not as personally powerful as Sarutobi, proved to be the superior strategist. He was the first and most vociferous to support Hanzo's claim to rulership over Ame, and kept a constant, very obvious diplomatic dialogue open with the man to force Konoha to keep its forces divided, then executed a master shadow war against both Kumo and Konoha, while his strong-headed Daimyo learned the painful realities of warfare and how to be a decent strategist and tactician with his conventional forces.

Kumo was run by A, who had just come to power as the youngest Kage ever, and while extremely powerful personally, lacked the guile to successfully defeat Iwa, despite Iwa fighting on two fronts.

Sand, always the smallest of the big five, conducted a hideously effective guerrilla campaign against Kiri's forces, not just with ninja, but with its 'conventional' forces. While Konoha had enjoyed the strongest relationship between conventional forces and ninja after the SGSW, during the TGSW the bond between Suna's army and ninja became a thing of legend. Every attempt to advance into the deserts of Wind was beaten back with hideous losses.

Kiri waged a vicious pirating campaign against Konoha in turn, and showed the world at large that while Konoha was unquestionably the strongest on land, Fire was weak at Sea.

During this war, ninja played a much lesser role than they had ever before; a hundred Chuunin had at best even odds against an armored battalion, unless they were Iwa Chuunin, and with the development of aircraft capable of effectively playing the role of fighter-bombers, ala early WWII aircraft, as well as far more rapidly-firing and effective artillery.

Due to the difficulty in keeping airbases from being sabotaged or demolished when close to the front lines, as well as the serious danger of low-flying or strafing aircraft getting cut down by a single well-placed technique from a ninja, their role was still limited. What would have been considered medium bombers in WWII IRL were developed and deployed during the course of war, their success leading to development work on heavy bombers, though they didn't see deployment before the war ended.

Zeppelins were rendered obsolete for deployment along a battlefront, Fire however began to deploy larger Zeppelins outfitted with heavy guns as escorts for their naval merchants; Kiri responded with aircraft carriers, Kiri responded with heavy (and long range) fighters as escorts, then aircraft carriers of their own. Kiri responded with submarines, Fire created depth charges, and the war ended before that went much further.

The war was expected to last much longer, as Kage-level combatants had not yet been deployed, when Minato popped up and ended the war single-handedly much the way that Sarutobi had twenty years earlier.

In this continuity, Minato didn't just cut down 600ish Iwa ninja from Genin to Jounin on one battlefield, he cut down some thousands of infantrymen, demolished three entire airbases with exploding tags, and blew up the front door to the Earth Daimyo's palace, _all in less than a minute_. With radios and telephones, Earth figured out what had happened _very_ quickly, and the Tsuchikage demanded the Daimyo sue for peace. The Daimyo refused, then had an 'accident,' and his successor sued for peace.

Kiri retreated from Wind's shores immediately, and their Daimyo sent an emissary to negotiate terms of peace, though they will very emphatically insist they did not _sue_ for peace, they merely _negotiated_ it.

The war lasted a few more months, but exclusively between Earth and Lightning, before the Lightning Daimyo finally brought A to heel and ended the war, despite their ultimately marginal gains in territory. Notable about Kumo, however, is that not even minor border skirmishes occurred between Lightning and Fire; in this continuity Fire and Lightning have not had more than extremely minor accidental clashes since the SGSW.

The Third Great Shinobi War ended, once again, with Fire and Konoha coming out as the clear top dogs, Minato's ascension brewed a great deal of resentment in other nations, as between Tsunade's breakdown and Sarutobi's advancing age, it had been hoped by many in other nations that they would have finally been cut down to size.

((()))

It's been a month since this quest started, and it's got more than an update per day. In celebration of that, and since I'm not ready to call the latest vote closed, it's time for an Omake!

((()))

Omake: What ultimately happened to Danzo.

Danzo was a hardened veteran of literally more battles than he could count, and as a number of them were not on any file or report, and he was the only survivor of a number of them, nobody else living could count the number of battles he'd been in either.

Even he accepted, however, that given enough time, all ninja cracked under interrogation. It was, in essence, an immutable truth, and was also why every S-ranked ninja worth their salt kept at least two suicide techniques in reserve, so that they could kill themselves before cracking. Or suffering more than was totally necessary.

Unfortunately for Danzo, three seal-masters superior to himself in skill, and Senju Tsunade, had all collaborated to disarm his suicide measures, and he was bereft of all seventeen suicide tactics he had prepared. That they had successfully collected _all_ of them impressed Danzo; they'd even wedged his jaw open to keep him from biting his tongue off.

His old rival's students were nothing if not thorough, and a part of Shimura Danzo had always resented the fact that none of _his_ protege's had even come close to matching Hiruzen's famed students. Hell, his students wouldn't have been able to defeat _one_ of the Sannin _collectively_, much less duel the whole team. How had Sarutobi managed to train three Kage-level ninja, anyways?

_It's odd_, Danzo thought, _The things you think of when under the effects of chemical interrogation._

He'd been on the drug for about a week, and it had been gradually turning his mind to mush; Morino Ibiki and Yamanaka Inoichi would occasionally enter his cell and ask him questions, but he had yet to answer any of them. Danzo knew what the record for how long it had taken a man to break was, and he intended to beat it, if nothing else. He also _was_ old, and he might get lucky, and die under the stress of interrogation, though with Tsunade around, that was profoundly unlikely.

The cell door opened, and the Sandaime walked in.

"You know, Danzo," Sarutobi said sadly as he stood in front of the angled table Danzo was effectively welded into, "I am deeply disappointed in you. Once upon a time, we were friends."

"Once," Shimura agreed, his voice rough from lack of use and dehydration, "Once I trusted you to know how to keep Konoha safe."

"Danzo," Sarutobi said, earnest sadness in his tone and on his face, "Don't you know that losing a friend's trust is the surest way to lose a friend?"

A pink creature, no, a pink _abomination_, like some twisted fiend's caricature of... _some_ sort of quadruped suddenly burst out of the collar of Sarutobi's robes, its forelegs flailing about wildly.

"_FOREVER!"_ It shouted.

And that was when Danzo knew he had lost his mind.

((()))

AN: I blame my Beta being a Brony.

((()))

→ Hold on to your horse-summons everyone, because you left it to the GM and now Kushina is getting on the CRAZY TRAIN!

((()))

"You should invest in diapers," You promptly inform Kakashi, "Because you'll be changing a lot of them."

Kakashi freezes, in what you suspect strongly is horror.

"Oh, and Fishbowl can invest in a hat. Seriously, that hair is way the hell too distinctive, how do you ever expect to blend in on infiltration missions?"

"A valid point Uzumaki-dono!" Gai declares, "This thought had not occurred to me before!"

"Kakashi," You continue, "You should probably also invest in some real estate, the twins will need somewhere to play with their uncle outdoors.. Also, you should get some steak for your summons. Oh, oh! You should start a greenhouse that grows night-flowering plants, so that we can have our own supply of seal ink when I start teaching you seals, and-"

You break off for a moment, Tsunami's done feeding, so you shift your hold on her and use a chakra-chain to tuck that breast away.

"And you should probably put a lot of it away as a date-fund, so you can impress Rin-chan when you start dating her next year-"

"_What?!"_ Kakashi bursts out, utterly horrified, but you just bulldoze right over him.

"You'll want to make sure you buy the plot next to our house, so that when you and Rin-chan start having babies, I can come over with the twins and-"

"NOOOOOOOO!" Kakashi screams in horror, and flees the rooftop in terror.

"I did not know you had a girl you admired Kakashi-kun!" Fishbowl declares as he races off after Kakashi, "You must tell me all about..."

His interrogation fades off as he and Gai rapidly move out of range of even fine-tuned ninja hearing.

Oh well, I guess he didn't want advice after all?

What do next? You've still got your Ichiraku sitting on the rooftop next to you.

→ Visit Yoshino-chan with a gift, you owe her for her help the other day.

→ Go grocery shopping.

→ Visit the Hyuugas, you owe Hiashi some thanks for his efforts to save Minato.

→ Go around town and showing random villagers just how cute your behbes are.

→ Training. (Nin/Gen/Tai/Ken-jutsu?)

→ Write in.

((()))

AN: Warning, if you guys leave things up to the GM too much, you may start getting bad-crazy results...

((()))

→ Go see dem Hyuugas.

((()))

With your current distraction run off by your overwhelming instinctive need for _more babies_, you summon a clone to feed you Ramen while Naruto finishes up. There's no one around watching you for etiquette, so you don't bother to eat slowly.

Which isn't to say you make a mess either, there will be _no_ wasting of Ramen for you, but two people's worth of Ramen is still ingested fully within three or so minutes, after which the clone heads off to dispose of the bowls and packaging, while you begin bouncing across the rooftops towards the Hyuuga compound.

As usual, its traditionalist style reminds you vaguely of your earliest years, back in Uzu, which also favored such a style, though you remember few of the specific details now. It's a sort of a bittersweet reminiscence, and has fairly frequently dampened your mood while you were present within the Hyuuga compound, something they probably would appreciate, if they were aware of it. Most likely, they just assume that even _you_ tone things down somewhat within their reserved home.

There's a retired Chuunin at the gate, a matter of etiquette and protocol more than an actual _guard_, and after a brief exchange of words, and a series of hand-signals from within his voluminous sleeves that ninja below Jounin rank wouldn't notice, you're ushered into the same meeting structure that you were in just a few days before. The same female Chuunin as before is present, and she again offers you tea and a smile. You accept both, and make pleasant chit chat while you wait for-

Wait a minute, you didn't even say who you were here to visit, you just introduced yourself and the guard let you in. They must have been expecting you, or at least _someone_ must have been expecting you. During a lull in the conversation (about favored ninja weapons, yours being explosive tags), you ask her about who is coming to coming to speak with you, and she says 'Hana-hime and Hiashi-sama.'

Huh. Not sure why he's bringing the wife. You don't really know Hyuuga Hana very well; she was a year or two behind you in the academy, though she was the same age, and never made Jounin. You're not sure if she made Special Jounin or not, but you're pretty sure she at least made Chuunin before moving to reserve status to start having babies.

_Something I can very much sympathize with right now_, you think as you pull your babies a little bit closer and bury your face in their scruffy hair; Naruto giggles in response.

Soon enough, the shoji panel facing towards the inner parts of the Hyuuga compound slides open, and Hiashi steps in, before turning around to gently assist his wife, who is _very_ pregnant, into the room.

Very, _very_ pregnant. You're pretty sure that's at _least_ twins in there, something you recognize readily yourself.

"Greetings, Uzumaki-san," Hiashi says respectfully as the present Chuunin arranges some cushions for Hana to seat herself on, "I am glad that you came to speak with us, for there are matters of great importance we wish to discuss with you."

"What kind of things?" You ask, somewhat startled.

"First of all," Hiashi says as he helps Hana seat herself, then sits down himself, "The possibility of arranging for the betrothal of one of our soon-to-be-born daughters to your son."

_Whaaaat?_

Your response:

→ Stunned silence.

→ "What game are you playing here, Hiashi?"

→ "Of course! They'd be so _cuuute_ together!"

→ "You'll have to tell me more about why before I agree to anything."

→ Write-in?

((()))

Cute: 2

Check Tsunade/medical then sure: 5

Tell me more first: 6

Stunned silence: 4

No arranged marriages: 2

((()))

→ Shock, then ask for more info, then say you'll need to check with Tsunade first.

((()))

Your jaw is hanging open slightly as you stare at Hiashi, the full intent of his words taking some time to work their way through your head. Hiashi takes the opportunity to say more words.

"I understand that this may seem somewhat premature, but there are a number of reasons such an alliance would be desirable," Hiashi says calmly, "As they are... excuse me."

He breaks off briefly to root around in the sleeves of his robes, then turns to his wife.

"Beloved," He says, his voice softening as he addresses her, "Do you recall where I placed the outline of the proposed betrothal?"

"Ah," Hana says, her voice the very essence of refined gentility, "I recall you placing it on our bedstand before you helped me out of bed, I am not certain if you recovered it afterwards."

"Yuki-san," Hiashi says, turning to face the Chuunin, who has just finished serving tea, "I require the scroll that apparently resides on the bed-stand of my wife and I, I must oblige you to recover it for me."

"Of course, Hiashi-sama," Yuki says, bowing gracefully, before standing smoothly, and gliding out of the small structure.

"Please pardon the interruption, Uzumaki-san," Hiashi says (you didn't, it gave you time to reboot the brain), turning back go face you, "But as I was saying, an alliance would do much to _secure_ the future of our clans, especially combining our unparalleled awareness and perception, with your own clan's talent and knowledge of sealing."

That's definitely a hint he's trying to pass on, you'd have to be an idiot Genin to miss it, but you're exactly sure _what_ it is he's trying to hint at.

_Wat do?_

→ Write-in?

((()))

AN: Just so you all know, responding in any way that wouldn't give him time to elaborate, would have been the _bad_ option. Whichever option that would have been.

((()))

Stall: 3

Secure the space for speakings: 10

Too many secret things to agree just now: 1

AN: You know, the argument on the previous page was invigorating enough that I'd thought the voting was close. Turns out it was pretty thoroughly lopsided once I actually took a tally...

((()))

→ "I'd be happy to discuss terms, but I'm afraid that I must request that I take measures to keep our conversation private. I am unwilling to reveal the details of my bloodline without several measures of my own security. I am, however, willing to reveal certain details to you so long as you swear upon the honor of the Hyuugas and your ancestors that what we discuss remains between us."  
→ If Hiashi agrees, set up privacy seals and genjutsu.

"...I'd be happy to discuss terms," You say, eyeing Hiashi up and down carefully, "But as I'm sure you can sympathize with, a lot of stuff about the Uzumaki bloodline is secret, so I'll have to take _measures_ in order to discuss it."

"Of course," Hiashi says with a meaningful nod, "What measures would you see as necessary?"

"An oath on your part not to reveal any secrets I will disclose, upon the honor of the Hyuuga clan."

"Acceptable," Hiashi says, then turns to his wife, who nods gracefully in turn, "We so swear."

"Very good," You say, then summon a clone, who takes Naruto and Tsunami off your hands, allowing you to pull a storage seal from one of your equipment pouches, and release a _large_ scroll from storage.

This little beauty ('little' meaning the scroll is only about a hundred feet long when unfurled) was developed by you and Minato together, him for his skill with time/space manipulation, you for your skill with chakra storage; the power requirements for this seal are _intense_. You flip through three dozen hand-seals lightning-quick, totally irrelevant to the Seal, but misdirection is the essence of Ninja, and then activate the array.

Immediately, everything within twenty feet of you is slipped out of phase with reality proper. It's not totally disconnected, _that_ could have all kinds of unpleasant consequences, but the shell which differentiates the isolated space from the rest of existence 'twists' the connection on a dimension you don't really understand (that was Minato's bit), but that twist means that everything, sound, light, vibrations, and any form of chakra, is distorted into psychedelic staticky patterns. Which are completely indecipherable to any known human senses.

"This'll last for no less than ten minutes," You tell Hiashi flatly, "Beyond that, its duration is a secret, even from you. I don't see it as completely out of the question, but I'm not much of a fan of committing my son to marrying someone who isn't born yet. Start talking."

"I will be concise," Hiashi says simply, "You are doubtless aware of the internal tension within my clan, especially since I ordered our academy students to partake in Sniper training. There are three bloodlines that are considered to be part of the 'main' family, my wife being from one of them. Every generation the head marries from the bloodline of the three his parents do not come from, while the other members of each bloodline are required to marry outside of the clan, so as to prevent dangers relating to inbreeding.

"The complication comes in how power is held within the clan," Hiashi continues, distaste entering his tone, "and the political maneuvering that resulted in the branding of my twin, Hizashi. The clan council is composed of each member of the Main House who has attained Chuunin rank or higher, and holds authority second only to the Clan Head. If there is a contention regarding policy, a two-thirds majority of the Council serves as a deadlock, at which point breaking the tie is turned to a vote amongst the Chuunin or higher amongst the Branch House, the only form of power they hold within the clan. In the case of a total majority, however, the Council may overrule even the Head."

He pauses, and his jaw works, a clear outwards sign of suppressed anger.

"Hizashi was sealed on the _possibility_ that should I take it into my head to decree the Caged Bird seal be removed, that he, being my twin, would vote alongside me, regardless of the will of the rest of the Council."

Hiashi is nearly trembling by this point, and Hana leans over to envelope him in a gentle hug.

"It is ironic, in that we were three years old. The issues around the seal had never occurred to me, but because of the pain my brother suffered through," A genuine scowl pushes past Hiashi's iron self-control, "I have developed _opinions_ regarding the seal. Largely that it is utterly loathsome, and absolutely unacceptable in every way. My brother's life literally hangs upon the whim of any of a dozen petty, selfish men and women, a single refusal to obey their orders could end his life instantly. I will see the Caged Bird seal removed from the Hyuuga clan, or I will die in the attempt."

"Damn straight," You snarl, "I knew it could cause pain, but _death?_ That's _bullshit_."

"Indeed," Hiashi says, regaining some of his cool as he wraps an arm around his wife, "And seeing as my wife is pregnant with twins, I must also act swiftly if I wish to prevent one of my daughters from suffering a similar fate. In arranging a betrothal to your son, I not only ensure this, but ally myself with a powerful seal-master, and arrange things so that the Council would be either grievously insulting an ally to seal the next clan-head's future wife, or accept my daughter remaining unsealed. And if they do attempt to force the sealing, they would be giving an Uzumaki seal-master unrestricted access to the Caged Bird seal, to learn to effect a counter-seal or removal. Even my arranging of such a betrothal is beyond reproach in my position as Clan head, due to the indisputable fact that the Uzumaki make for powerful allies."

You nod thoughtfully as you consider how to proceed from here.

About four minutes have passed since you raised the seal, it'll last fifteen minutes on its own reserves, you can push it for at least another five on your own, and still remain decently combat capable. What do?

→ Write-in.

((()))

Vote count:

Betrothal with escape clauses: 2

Positive inclination, but more consideration/consultation with other: 5

Plan Hymn: 5

Also keep the details secret: 1

AN: I'm basically going with plan Hymn, because it's essentially a more detailed version of what I counted just above it. Stipulating that the contract details and etc be kept secret is something I was hoping that _someone_ would pick up on. It's a case where it is a very big deal thing to do in-setting, but I wasn't going to throw it in there without at least _somebody_ bringing it up. One person voted for it, and a couple other people mentioned it, and that's enough for me to stick it in. _Bad things_ would probably have happened if it hadn't been...

((()))

→ "You are asking me to make my son one of the most important people in a conflict that might tear your clan apart. To decide his life for him before he has had a chance to decide for himself. Before I even consider this, you _will_ promise me that you would look out for Naruto's well-being and happiness as if he were your own child."  
→ "I've convinced Tsunade to rejoin Konoha, and she will be performing an examination on my children. She believes they are developing unique bloodlines. I'll ask her to perform an examination on your children as well, as much as she can now and again when they are born, to ensure that they will be compatible and that your Council will have no leverage to dismiss the union. In the meantime, I will consider your proposal as thoroughly as possible to come to a decision. You can tell that to the Council so that they are appeased while we wait for further results. I may be willing to consider it, but I am not yet willing to commit. Once we are reasonable confident that no insurmountable obstacles exist, I will make my final decision and if I agree we will finalize the terms of the betrothal. Deal?"

"Alright Hiashi," You say, all trace of your usual goofiness laid aside for this time and place as you give him the _Serious Face_, "You're asking me to put my son, _who is less than a week old_, on the line for the sake of your children, and the future of your clan, which you've just admitted is _intensely_ politically divided, and willing to do _very stupid things_ in order to pursue their goals. The only way I'm committing to this, is if you give me an oath that you will treat Naruto's safety and well-being the same way you would a child of your own."

"If you will give your own word to treat my daughter's well-being in the same way." Hiashi returns, just as seriously.

"Hiashi," You say seriously, "If your munchkin gets betrothed to my baby, that will make her _family_. And I can tell you this, I will see _every single Hyuuga dead_, before I allow them to slap one of those damn seals on _any_ member of my family. _This includes you_."

Hana shivers slightly, and you force yourself to calm down, realizing that you had begun to channel some Killing Intent there.

"And don't think I couldn't do it, either," You tell him more quietly, but no less intensely, "Your clan fields you, your brother, and _maybe_ two other S-rank combatants, all of you centered around Taijutsu and the Jyuuken. Due to my Uzumaki heritage," You continue, the pace of your speech beginning to pick up, "I have techniques at my disposal that allow me to render myself _immune_ to the effects of Jyuuken, which I can engage _after_ my chakra system has already effectively been disabled, and have chances of self-activating even if I am attacked while _unconscious_."

You pause for a moment, panting from pent-up emotion and your overly-fast words.

"Do _**not**_ mess with my family." You finish, leaning back on your haunches, and taking Naruto and Tsunami back from the clone that was holding them, and holding them tightly to your chest.

Hana and Hiashi graciously give you a minute to calm down, and you bury your face in the twins' hair, drinking in their scent, feeling their hearts beat against your chest. It's been a _long_ time since you've had family by blood, and you are _not_ giving them up any time soon.

"You have my word," Hiashi eventually says, "That I shall protect your son, and daughter for that matter, as earnestly as I shall protect my daughters. Honor would demand nothing less."

"And my word also," Hana says softly, and you lift your head to look at her, surprised she chose to speak up as well at this point.

Her face wears a gentle, sad expression, one you've seen in the mirror many times before; she's not even trying to mask her body language, and you're pretty sure that if she wasn't gravid with twins herself, she'd be coming over to give you a hug. As is, she settles for wrapping her arms around Hiashi again, giving you a bittersweet smile as she does so.

"And you have my promise, to look after _both_ of your daughters, Hiashi, Hana," You say solemnly, "I'll either keep the seal off of both of them, or find a way to remove it if the rest of your clan goes behind our backs to apply it."

"We have an accord then, Uzumaki-san?" Hiashi says, returning to the formality that he is more accustomed to now that the moments of fierce emotion have passed.

"We _will_," You say, "But a number of things need to happen before we can finalize an agreement, beyond simply finding a suitably trustworthy lawyer to draw up the documents. First, earlier today, I convinced Senju Tsunade to end her nomadic lifestyle, and remain in Konoha, in part so that she can fulfill a role as Tsunami's godmother."

Hana's eyes go wide at that, and Hiashi twitches. Barely.

"She has only conducted a cursory examination of the twins thus far, but a new evolution of the clan heritage I already carry may be developing in them, and while the well-known parts of the Uzumaki bloodline, high chakra endurance and vitality, should not conflict with the Byakugan, the newly-developing traits are as-yet unknown. As such, all detailed negotiation must await a comprehensive examination of my children from Tsunade, and while we're at it, allowing her to examine your wife and unborn daughters would most likely be appropriate. This would mean bringing her in on the intended existence of said contract, but I assume you have no objections to this?"

Hiashi and Hana both shake their heads, Hana looking somewhat faint.

"Second, I must have words at least in passing with the twins' father," You continue, "He deserves at least to be aware of this, and he may be aware of reasons to object that I am not, and such must be taken into consideration."

The Hyuugas nod again at this.

"Third, the detailed terms are to be sworn to secrecy. In order to enforce this, I shall place seals upon the contract, barring those whose blood is not applied upon the seal's creation from reading the full terms, rather than simply the general outline. Because of this, we will be able to include more or less any terms that we want, which will be beyond the purview of your political opponents to even be aware of. Since I am the one insisting on this, and it is your daughter to wed the future head of _my_ clan, they have very little ground to object," You pause for a moment, allowing a _vicious_ grin to grow upon your face, "And believe you me, the enforcement protocols regarding secrecy I can include in such a seal will mean that any of your political opponents who attempt to break the secrecy seal, well... Let's just say that hopefully they _will _attempt such a thing, because then they will no longer be a problem for _any_ of us."

"Finally, and partially contingent upon the third issue, there must be an included escape clause in case our children simply have no desire whatsoever for each other. Since this will be included in the secured part of the contracts, it's not something to worry about the political repercussions of, but I will _not_ allow my son to be forced into marrying a woman he hates, as utterly improbable as I think such a disposition towards each other may be."

You grin again, this time much more pleasantly, rubbing your cheek against Naruto's scruffy hair as you do so.

"Especially since they'll have me trying to set them up together. Do you have any objection to these measures?"

"In principle," Hiashi says, "I find them to be eminently satisfactory. We will, of course, have to spend some time considering them, and meet again to handle the more specific details later. I am glad we have been able to come to such an agreement."

"Me too," You say, relaxing from 'serious mode' somewhat, and exchanging smiles with Hana, who is rubbing her swollen belly in a way that you are intimately familiar with yourself.

The privacy seal has been running for about thirteen minutes, do you want to talk about anything else before lowering it?

→ See if Hiashi can get you the schematics for the Caged Bird seal.

→ Arrange for Hana to come in for 'you' to check up on her pregnancy, so you can pull a switch with Tsunade when she gets to the hospital.

→ Try to weird Hiashi out with your oddness, he's altogether too serious.

→ Writein?

((()))

AN: As I've mentioned earlier in this quest, I don't just go with straight options, I mash things up to what seems most character appropriate. This particular time, I varied more than usual from what the votes were, but I still think I kept to them in general, while also keeping to Kushina's character. If people feel I'm going too far off the wall with this, we can have some discussion about such on the thread for regarding future posts.

Also, it's just a point of note, Mikoto=Naruto's Godmother, Jiraiya=Naruto's Godfather. Tsunade=Tsunami's Godmother, nobody yet=Tsunami's Godfather. It doesn't really seem appropriate to me to ask Hiashi to do that, but I'm just throwing this out there in case you lot do, or want to track down somebody else for the role. Just sayin'

((()))

→ Lower the seal, then ask Hana to come in for an inspection from Tsunade some time.

AN: Not many votes this time, not many at all.

((()))

You lower the privacy seal, and little else of consequence is said between yourself and the Hyuuga couple, though you do get Hana to agree to an examination from Tsunade (not a difficult thing to get people to agree to).

And the Hyuuga Chuunin, Yuki, is so doing such an _adorable_ job of hiding how flustered the privacy screen had her. Like most most Hyuuga, she's very good at presenting a calm front, but you're a Jounin, and Byakugan users are _not_ used to having their vision blocked off.

Your inner prankster passes on a warm, fuzzy feeling; imagining the same thing happening to the Hyuuga Council, or whatever spy they set to watching, is a Happy Thought.

Once your (overly formal) goodbyes are completed, you leave the Hyuuga council, and happily bounce your way along to the Hokage tower, humming one of your favorite songs as you do so. The twins, nestled against your chest, coo happily as you traverse the rooftops, and you get a strong case of the Warm Fuzzies. You use the window entrance to access Minato-kun's office directly once you reach the tower, and find that fortunately, he's alone except for his secretary, Inuzuka Hikari.

"Afternoon Yondaime-sama," You call as you enter, the security seals around the window frame resonating briefly with the one on your belly as they confirm your identity, "Tested that privacy seal we were working on earlier, when we've got time we should talk about the results. Any hot items that need my attention today?"

"Just making sure things go smoothly for Tsunade as she takes over Medical," Minato says, nodding briefly in your direction as he looks over something important one of his shadow clones handling paperwork just passed to him, "Have you been to see Biwako yet today?"

"Yeah," You say with a sharkish grin, "She was well enough that her and the Old Monkey needed some privacy. Looks like she'll be making a full recovery. Anything else you think I should know about?"

"Just that Sensei 'took a break' again," Minato says, still not looking up from his work, "You might want to instigate a security patrol through the hot springs before he gets himself hurt. I'll send a runner if I need you for anything else."

"Aye-aye, Hokage-sama," You say cheerfully, saluting jauntily, an odd experience with Naruto still being held in that hand, "I'm off Toad-hunting then, good luck with the red tape."

And with that, you head off to:

→ Go hunt up Jiraiya, just like you said.

→ Visit Yoshino-chan with a gift, you owe her for her help the other day.

→ Go grocery shopping.

→ Go around town and showing random villagers just how cute your behbes are.

→ Training. (Nin/Gen/Tai/Ken-jutsu?)

→ Write in.

((()))

AN: Kushina talking about the security seal was her way of letting him know that they need to have A Talk later; him not paying her any real attention is something that happens sometimes. They're not publicly anything more than Hokage and Lieutenant, so sometimes he gives her plenty of attention, sometimes he doesn't, same as with Orochimaru.

((()))

→ Off to see Jiraiya.

AN: Sorry about further delays; the latest chapter of Hero Harry ran 4000 words over what I was expecting, and this delayed things again.

((()))

It's not far to the hot springs, for a ninja anyways, and you find Jiiraiya soon enough. His ear is pressed to the privacy fence, probably augmented with chakra too, trying to listen in and see if he can glean any 'secrets' that will help him with the fairer sex, and his eyes are pealed, watching for potential perverts, which you suspect he hopes will show up to give him the chance to play hero to the women within.

He's been trying this for at least six years, as long as you've known him, and it hasn't gotten him anywhere yet. How he manages an intelligence network while being so utterly inept with women, you have no idea. Some people think it's an elaborate ruse, but you know from Minato that Jiraiya honestly has no idea to deal with women, and _desperately_ wishes that he did.

You're still trying to figure that one out.

Regardless, he's at his usual haunt, and judging by the empty coffee cup and sake bottle, he's been here for a while. Just as you arrive within clear line-of sight, the Old Monkey's son, Asuma strolls up to Jiraiya's hiding spot, and strikes up a conversation with him, though you're too far away to hear just what they're saying.

How do you approach this?

→ Write-in.

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AN: Don't go overboard with asking questions or playing super-spy, but what gets voted on here, especially if it's _well-written_, will determine what, and what kind of, information, you have on Jiraiya before you start walking into this. For player knowledge, Kushina has not yet made any dedicated attempt to help Jiraiya with his women issues in life, mostly because their contact is very limited due to their respective missions and whatnot.

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→ The subtle route.

AN: I like to mash together the plans when I can, but the ones listed were pretty diametrically opposed; counting old Quizer and new Quizer together put it ahead though.

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Lifting Naruto and Tsunami up so that they can see your face clearly, you give them a smile and a whispered 'shhhh!' before slipping down to street level, then creeping around towards the small stand of trees that blocks most visibility to Jiraiya's hiding place. It takes a few minutes of work, but you manage to damp your chakra, and insinuate yourself into a close enough position that you can overhear Jiraiya and the Old Monkey's sprat.

"-I don't really get it," Asuma is saying, "Why would Minato-sama give me a group of genin? I'm barely four years older than the average academy graduate!"

"Part of it's probably because whether you believe it or not," Jiraiya replies gently, "You've inherited your old man's tendency towards teaching. I'm not the only one who saw you working with the Genin and Chuunin at every posting you held during the war."

"_Ugh_," Asuma says grumpily, "Why does it _always_ come back to my dad? Can I do anything _without_ it being compared to him?"

"Yeah," Jiraiya says with a laugh, "You could try sucking as a ninja. It's not fair the way most people compare you to him; I'd know, I've been compared to Tsunade-hime and snake-face my whole career, but I've learned to get over it."

"Yeah," Asuma said, still clearly unhappy, "But you _have_ done something that tops both of them, you trained the Yondaime."

"And you've trained, informally, a full third of the Chuunin who were still alive and in-service at the end of the war," Jiraiya replies, his tone much more serious, "And no small number of them were alive _because_ you trained them."

"And it just gets people talking about how much like my father I am all over again!" Asuma half-shouts, nearly exploding, "People'd just call me a repeat if I trained up a whole new generation of Kage-level combatants!"

"Hey," Jiraiya says, and you hear what you suspect is the Toad-hermit taking hold of the younger man, "They don't know what they're talking about. For all that Sensei did a great job trading me and my teammates, he _never_ engaged in the kind of across-the-board type of training you've given people. They compare it to your father training us because they don't see the whole picture. Don't let it get to you."

"If that's the case," Asuma says, his anger fading to grumpiness, "Then why's he giving me a genin team, instead of sending me to teach at the Academy?"

"Like I said," Jiraiya says, a hint of humor entering his voice, "Your proven record teaching is only _part_ of the picture. You're also one of the least unhinged Jounin in grade right now, and the last thing we need right now is a war-veterans passing their trauma on to a bunch of twelve and thirteen year olds. A lot of harsh measures that were SOP during the war _won't_ fly now, and they shouldn't, and you're stable enough to recognize that."

"Come on," Asuma says, his tone finally shifting away from anger altogether, towards disbelief, "There's _got _to be better candidates than me out there."

"Not really," Jiraiya says with a chuckle, "The only Jounin above you on the 'sane and stable' list who doesn't already have a team, is Kushina, and she's got her new kids to take care of?"

A tense silence passes for a moment.

"_Uzumaki_ Kushina?" Asuma says, his voice full of flat disbelief.

You hear the slight rustle of hair moving over cloth, probably Jiraiya nodding.

"If _she's_ the sanest Jounin we've got on hand," Asuma says, "We're worse off than I thought."

Well, now _that_ wasn't very nice of him, was it?

Wat do?

→ That certainly sounded like an invitation to join the conversation to you! Enter in a manner that reveals you heard what he said, and show your displeasure!

→ This sounds like an _excellent_ time to just 'happen' by, looking to have Naruto visit with his Godfather!

→ Leave quietly to plot your pranktastic revenge!

→ Write-in?

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AN: I rolled for the stealth & creeping up. Asuma rolled better than Kushina, but his skills were inferior; Jiraiya had better skills, but rolled worse. Both were within 4% of detecting Kushina anyways. You lucky dogs.

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→ Plan Hymn. Who totally dominated this round of voting.

Shunshin, short range tactical teleportation, or _DRAMATIC ENTRANCE!_

"Yeah, those Uzumakis," You tell Asuma as one of your clones companionably wraps an arm around his shoulder, "Totally crazy. Oh hey, Jiraiya!"

Prime you turns to face the old toad.

"We were looking for you," You say, holding Naruto out in front of the Sannin, "Naru-chan needs some time with his godfather!"

He takes the hint, and gently takes the little red-headed bundle of adorableness from your left arm, and carefully cradles him in both of his, a goofy, bittersweet grin growing on his face. Naruto smiles.

"Awww, he's happy to see you; make sure you're careful with him, old man, it'd be _terrible_ if he started crying _right next to the women's baths_ wouldn't it?"

You give him a _grin_.

"Why, just _imagine_ what might happen if the women in there heard a _crying baby_ just outside, I'd imagine they couldn't resist the urge to come make sure everything is alright!"

You come around and turn your attention to Asuma, who looks desperately like he would have liked to escape while your attention was on Jiraiya, but clever woman that you are, you had a clone in place for _just that eventuality._

"Oh hey, don't worry Asuma-kun, I wouldn't want to leave you out, you can hold Tsunami! Isn't she just the cutest little girl?"

Asuma glances at Jiraiya, and seeing that he'll have no help there, and realizing there's now way he's going to escape without resorting to foolish extremes, man's up, steps up, and carefully takes Tsunami when you extend your arms to offer her. It's immediately obvious that he's held children before, he holds her _perfectly_.

"You've done this before," You say warmly, "Who you hanging out with that's had a baby lately?"

"My sister-in-law," Asuma says a little awkwardly, "She's the youngest sibling, and her older siblings all have been having kids the last few years. After I teased her and Toshiro about," He coughs, and angle's Tsunami up a little bit so that she has a clearer view of her surroundings, "_Something_ two months ago, she started getting her family to post baby-sitting missions as C-ranks, specifically requesting me to take them. Yondaime-sama apparently thinks the whole thing is hilarious, and keeps passing them on."

"He's probably also been using them to see how well you handle being around children," You say with a smile, then gesture over your shoulder towards Jiraiya, "Jiraiya's not bad, but it's obvious you know _exactly_ how to best hold an infant. If it's been going on for two months now, that means you're obviously not totally screwing things up, Minato wouldn't keep you on the task if you were," Your smile turns to a grin, "And it's kept you in town until the new genin graduated."

Asuma clearly isn't sure what to make of that.

"Look," you say, taking advantage of a rare baby-less moment to stretch out, "I don't handle the personnel disposition, that's something Minato takes care of himself, he sees the Hokage's job as being about the people he's serving first, and I think he's right about that. I _do_ trust his judgement implicitly though, otherwise, I wouldn't have handed my newborn baby over to a man I've barely met before, _less than a week after my son was held hostage by a Kage-rank nin."_

You smile again, more gently this time, the 'big sister' smile you give to Kakashi when you're genuinely happy with or for him.

"If Minato says you're dependable, then that means _you're dependable_. If you aren't sure about yourself, then trust in Minato, who trusts in you."

You hold his gaze for a few moments; you can see you've changed _something_ in there, and he's trying to figure it out, though he clearly isn't sure of anything yet. After a bit, you decide that putting any pressure on him, even subtle, probably won't help things, and you turn your attention to Jiraiya.

"Right, old toad," You say good-naturedly, "Now that you're Naru-chan's godfather, we're going to have to do something about this whole problem you have with women. I don't want him to start picking up your bad habits once he's old enough to start mimicking you."

Jiraiya, suddenly realizing that Asuma isn't the only one you've trapped with a baby, puts on a sickly grin.

→ How do you approach this?

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AN: Right. As to Asuma, Hymn had a fairly solid write-in, and this has opened doors for trying to influence Asuma more down the road; obviously, a fair bit of this came from me as the writer/GM as well, and that was a bit of a gimme because you were going in mostly cold (not knowing Asuma very well), later bits with him will be much more based on what the players say, for good or ill.

As to Jiraiya, you know the following about his women issues:

He deals with kunoichi well in any non-romantic context, basically treating them like 'one of the guys.'

He's terrible with women in any romantic context.

To the best of your knowledge, he had more or less no contact with women outside of kunoichi when working, or women in general when he's trying to 'play the singles scene' and pick up chicks.

When trying to 'pick up chicks,' you know he uses classic tactics, such as pickup lines, semi-subtle displays of wealth and prowess, and similar tactics of men who are specifically hunting for romance.

Including this tidbit is an author gimme; aside from Tsunade (sort of), to the best of your knowledge, he has never tried to start a romantic relationship with any female friend he has, he has only tried to go after women at singles bars and the likes.

To those observant enough to notice, he's been spotted listening at places like hotsprings, bathhouses, massage parlors, salons, and other 'girl talk' places. It's always been listening, he's _never_ been caught trying to actually peek.

Literally any tactic that's not outright assholeness is an acceptable offering here; Kushina can be reasonable or 'crazy' in turn, using whichever methods she think best suit the situation. This is one of those opportunities to get something epic started, though unlike the thing with Tsunade, Jiraiya isn't in the middle of a meltdown, and sorting out his issues with women wouldn't reformat his entire life, so worst-case scenario is offending him big-time, and best-case scenario is helping him learn how to actually try to find romance successfully.

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→ Plan Hymn, to some degree.

AN: That this is largely for Naruto was established at the end of the last segment, so it's not included here.

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"First off," You say, using the 'I am a woman, which means in this situation, I am in charge of you ignorant males' voice (gotta get to use it _some_ time, since it _never_ works with Minato), "From everything I've heard, you're one of those poor male souls who suffers from failing to understand that the most important part of having a girlfriend, is that she's a _friend_."

Jiraiya's eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

"I've heard that before," He says suspiciously, "But I'm pretty sure the people who told me were lying. What gives?"

Now _your_ eyes widen in shock.

"_Lying?_" You say in irritated disbelief, "Why would you think that _that_ is a lie?"

"Every single romance book I've found targeted at female audiences," Jiraiya says promptly, "And everything I've heard girls talking about here, at salons, at massage parlors, at the beach, and other miscellaneous locations."

...Okay, you weren't expecting that, though now that you think of it, 'girl-talk' in such locations _does_ tend to center around more superficially attractive elements regarding men the girls are interested in.

"I'll need to get someone else along with me to explain why girls _do_ want their boyfriend to be a _friend_ at some point," You say flatly, "I'm not sure I'm up to doing it myself. Suffice to say, they _do_. If all that a woman wants is a handsome man with some 'cool' ninja skills and a lot of money, she's a gold-digger, and I am _not_ letting you get married to one of those opportunistic skanks."

"...Okay?" Jiraiya says, his expression torn between bemused amusement, and some legitimate warmth at the concern you're displaying for him.

"Also," You continue, "I'm well aware that as a ninja, the temptation to treat this like a mission, stalk a target, and learn their personality that way will be strong. It even uses a familiar skill set. Just know that this is the kind of stalker action that, if it becomes known, could seriously ruin his reputation and creep the girl out something fierce. Especially if they aren't..."

You trail off as you realize that Jiraiya's face has been overwritten by complete, total, and _honest_ shock. He's completely bewildered; in fact, he's so out of it that his grip on Naruto has slackened. Not enough to drop your son, but you carefully reach out and lift Naruto out of his arms anyways, you _don't_ want to take any chances here.

"Uh, Jiraiya?" You call, some serious concern slipping into your voice, "Are you okay?"

No response. Well, you know what to do when 'subtle' doesn't work.

"OY TOAD-FACE!" You bark, and the older man jumps; you hear an aborted snicker from Asuma behind you.

"Treating getting a girlfriend like a mission is a _bad thing?_" Jiraiya finally manages to reply, disbelief dominating his voice, "That's how I've been handling it my entire life!"

...You really aren't sure what to make of that.

Wat do?

→ This is more serious than you thought. Drag him off to speak collectively with someone else.

→ With Tsunade. (Teammate&Woman)

→ With Minato. (Close friend/former apprentice&Married Man)

→ With Sarutobi. (Teacher&Married Man)

→ Someone else? (Write-in.)

→ Drag Asuma with too, y/n?

→ Call Asuma in to back you up about friend=good/mission=bad.

→ Deal with this yourself, right now. (Write-in; you can ask for help too with this.)

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AN: Hymn's plan, as you may have noticed, was abbreviated not because of other votes, but because of Jiraiya's issue. Good job coming across that Hymn, whether it was intentionally or a stumble, I wasn't going to hand you guys this one as a gimme.


End file.
